


You're so careful

by theleftboobgrabber



Series: My mama don't like you [6]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec continue to be victimized by Magnus' hotness, And Plot, F/F, Fluff and Angst, M/M, clalec galores
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 15:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7177031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleftboobgrabber/pseuds/theleftboobgrabber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t…” she begins, then stops herself. She stands up and goes to the window, hugging herself. “Would it be wrong if I wanted? I mean it’s obviously not the time with all the problems we have and I should really concentrate on my training but…”</p><p>“It makes you happy,” he finishes for her. “Magnus makes me happy. I think he anchors me. And, well, I think I anchor him too. Just because the timing is bad doesn’t mean the relationship is.”</p><p>The redhead turns back to him, chuckling. At his answering frown, she says “When did you get so wise?” </p><p>Now that’s just uncalled for. Alec summons his best bitch face, the patented Condescending Big Brother™ -Izzy’s all time favorite.</p><p>“I’m always wise, it’s just that you guys are never listening.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello sweeties! Long time no see (I'm so sorry about that, don't hate me too much I struggled a bit with this fic, work and personal problems). So here's part six of _My mama Don't Like You_ and I hope you enjoy it!

*

Once Alec seems satisfied with a second hug, he releases Magnus from his arms and steps aside to let the girls greet him. Magnus smiles fondly at them but quickly looks down so he can take Alec’s hand in his. He truly needs to maintain the contact after the day he’s had and, if the smile that Alec blinds him with is genuine, so does his boyfriend.

“Magnus! Alec said you were coming back sooner than this. We were worried,” Clary says as she helps Simon back on his feet since the boy seems to be incapable of standing up without assistance. 

“Also, we waited on you to eat and now I’m starving,” Isabelle adds, feigning disinterest. “I made some chicken recipe I know. You’re going to love it!” She moves to the kitchen with enthusiasm, leaving an awkward silence behind. Alec, Clary, and Magnus all look at each other, trying to summon the courage that they’ll need to eat Izzy’s cooking; Magnus has never eaten something she made but he heard the  _ stories _ . Simon looks particularly happy, though… Bastard. The little nerd won’t have to suffer through the meal since he can only drink blood.

Alec glances at him, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“You still think you could made that food into something edible for us?” he asks in a murmur, either because he doesn't want Izzy to hear him or because he’s embarrassed to ask Magnus for something. Little does he know that Magnus would give him the world if he asked. 

Clary jumps into Magnus’ personal space and begs, “For me too please!” clutching his forearm the same way she used to when she was ten and asking for sweets or a pony while he kept an eye on her for Jocelyn. Magnus feels his heart clench at her action. In a way, Clary is the only child he’s seen grow -even from the sidelines- which make him her cool uncle of some sort. The cool uncle with the much, much younger boyfriend. Dear god, he’s a mundane cliché. At least he’s a very hot one.

Regretfully, she doesn’t remember any of that -not even the shouting match she had with Luke and Jocelyn over her ability or lack thereof to care for Gummy Bear the pony in a Brooklyn apartment. 

Magnus snorts but nods at her demand; his little biscuit isn’t above ratting him and Alec out to Izzy, and that’s a hurricane Magnus would rather avoid. And the warding in his loft is so good that he’s not worried about frivolously use his magic in here. He’s ready to ask what they actually want to eat (there is literally an entire world of restaurants to steal from) when something bangs in the kitchen and Izzy swears loudly.

“Need help, Iz?” Alec asks, barely containing a giggle. God, he has no poker face. At all. 

“No!” she shouts back. Magnus is 99% sure she’s lying. 

Clary and Alec snicker while a pale-looking Simon, who was awkwardly standing a few feet away, approaches Magnus.

“Hum… Mr. Bane. I would like to thank you for…” the fledgling begins but Magnus waves off his gratitude speech with his free hand and a sharp smirk, too tired to deal with the platitudes. 

“Don’t sweat it, Salmon. I’m sure I’ll find some way for you to repay me,” Magnus says, using his best business voice. He then purposely switches his gaze from Simon to Clary, slowly, keeping his professional demeanor. “Same goes for you, biscuit. Now, before I forget, I need to extend the wards of the loft in the new room,” Magnus adds, making it only a step before Alec tugs him back gently.

Magnus looks quizzically at him.

“You can't go in there,” his boyfriend says, a sheepish expression on his face.

“Why?” 

Clary, Alec, and Simon exchange  _ a look _ , all of them with various expressions of unease on their faces.

“Better you smell it for yourself, really,” Clary cringes.

 

*

The bedroom reeks of paint. And that is the understatement of the year. 

It's was inevitable with the quantity the three Shadowhunters seem to have poured on the walls and ceiling; the empty canisters piled by the door with the grubby brushes and rollers (filthy animals didn’t even clean them) are proof enough of their dirty work. So much as been used that the room is unbearable to be in and they are all standing a few paces away of the door, hands covering their noses and mouths. 

At least -from what Magnus can see- it looks awesome, like a sunset but on the walls. Magnus pats himself on the back for thinking about paint supplies before going to his appointments this morning. Clary told him a few minutes ago that she and Izzy picked the colors and Alec was too scared to say no to either of them so he merged the two - Alec only grumbled a bit at her claim, which can only mean it’s true. The result is beautiful; a warm gradient of red, orange and a shade of yellow that reminded Magnus of amber. 

If only they could access the room without fainting, it would be perfect.

Magnus is overcome with the need to declare the area toxic, open the windows and seal the room with some yellow hazard tape. Poor, poor Alec would have to share his bed until the fumes 

dissipated by themselves -very chastely, of course. Magnus snorts at the idea; he is an active sleeper and his dreams have been blessed by the presence of an extremely hot Shadowhunter these past few weeks. No way he can spend the night in a bed with Alec without humping him in his sleep. And, if the few heavy make-out sessions they’ve had since they began their relationship are to be trusted, he's pretty confident both of them would rather be awake when any kind of grinding happens. 

The warlock chances a glance at his boyfriend behind him, who's worrying his bottom lip (someone arrest him, it's  _ obscene _ ) and ogling not really subtly Magnus’ bedroom’s sliding doors like he’s sharing Magnus’ thoughts on the sleeping situation.

He sighs.  _ Oh dear... _

At least he's not the only one rendered completely useless by their relationship. Honestly, he doubts that they'll last long before someone (hopefully Alec) manhandles the other (hopefully him) against a wall for some heavy petting.

With a last image of Alec prettily spread out on his sheets in his mind, Magnus snaps the disgusting smell away, right into Raphael’s room in the Hotel DuMort.

_ It such a pain to be a responsible adult sometimes.  _

“I can’t help but remark that there’s no illusions of furniture in there,” he says once he’s in the middle of the empty room.

“Izzy got it in her head that we needed some fancy sauce that she forgot at the store, so we all went… And then she wanted to cook and Simon showed up…” Alec explains awkwardly, glancing at Clary for support. He finds none because that little biscuit is nothing but ruthless.

“At least tell me you looked through the catalogues?”

Alec bites his lip.

“I did!” he says too quickly. “This morning when you sent them… but then we… painted! We painted and then you came back…” he stammers, wincing at his own word vomit.

“So you didn’t,” Magnus finishes for him, chuckling at the ridiculousness of the situation. Who would think that this overgrown puppy of a man is a leader among his people, a killing machine born to defend mankind against what bumps in the night.

_ Adorable. _

 

*

Isabelle’s chicken doesn’t look one bit appetizing. But Magnus has to hand it to Clary and Alec, the faces they make at the sight of the dish are pretty tame. Simon, on the other hand, is openly gawking at the grey stuff that seems to ooze from the chicken’s skin. What is it? Sauce? Gordon Ramsay’s tears? Magnus can only guess.

Once she served everyone, Magnus discreetly swaps his, Clary and Alec’s plates for tandoori chicken from that place he likes but make sure that Isabelle can’t see the difference. She just looks extremely pleased with herself when they wolf down the food. Oddly enough, Magnus feels bad at deceiving her. Perhaps he could find someone that’s very good at cooking to give her some pointers -discreetly, of course. Or he could force Alexander, gently, to have an honest talk about her disastrous cooking abilities.

Thinking about Alec and the various ways he could have him isn’t good for his concentration (but it’s okay, Simon is babbling about World of Minecraft so Magnus just devours his boyfriend with his eyes) and the way Alec is holding his hand over the table is just plain distracting and too sweet not to be the sole focus of Magnus’s mind.

They’re on the second serving (how can Isabelle eat that horrendous abomination of hers? Perhaps a consultation with a doctor would reveal an odd but curable taste bud condition) when Magnus’ promise to Raphael to locate Camille comes back to him as the imposing ruby on Izzy’s neck catches his eye.

“Isabelle, dear, may I have a look at that necklace of yours?” Magnus asks.

She eyes him suspiciously and reflexively her hand goes to the jewel in question, as if to protect it from Magnus. He rolls his eyes -it’s not like he can’t snap it to him with an hand wave. He asked because he’s nice and respects people’s property. Food notwithstanding. Clothes. Pony. Alcohol. Furniture. Boat. That one time he needed a gay flag to wave around. Okay, so he steals lots of stuff, no biggie. 

“You said it was mine,” she whines pettily, “and I gave you Alec’s number in exchange!”

“You practically threw it at me -not that I was objecting!” he retorts while smirking at Alec, who fondly rolls his eyes. “Don’t fret, I’m not asking for it back forever. Raphael wants me to track Camille. The necklace was hers for a time… I just hope it retains enough of her energy to track her down with it.”

Mentioning Camille, as always, saps the  _ joie de vivre _ from the room.

“Can’t you use the book? Or anything of hers at DuMort? Or in her penthouse?” Clary proposes. Magnus gives her pointed look. 

“Oh, I tried that already. The book is magic in and of itself, and it considers me its owner right now -until another warlock steals it, I suppose… Grimoires are so unfaithful. DuMort is a -ah!- ead end,” he giggles at his own pun, “since Raphael had to kill one of his lieutenants last week. A little rat burned down anything that was Camille's, even the coffin she was locked in…”

A broken glass sound cuts of  Magnus’ explanation. He looks to his left, where Simon is looking constipated, broken wine glass in his hand.

“Wait, wait, did you just say Raph had to kill someone? Who?” Simon asks, curiously peeking at his hand, grossly fascinated by the shards of glass stuck deep in his skin, hand and table top covered in the blood that was in his glass. “Don’t let it be Stan, don’t let it be Stan,” he mutters absently.

Clary is immediately fussing around, checking his hand with a weirded out look on her face, while Izzy throws them an extra napkin to wipe away the blood. Magnus realizes that it must be weird for the redhead to see Simon, who she’s known all her life, as a vampire; to reconcile the boy with whom she grew up with the person she has in front of her. Hell, Simon must be dissociating like crazy, seeing something that  _ should _ hurt, remembering the sting of it but not feeling it much. Raphael had been like that after being turned, confused at everything -when he wasn’t outright trying to kill himself. The fledgeling barely winces when Clary begins to take the shards out, doesn’t even make a sound.

In truth, Simon looks more shaken at the idea of Raphael killing  _ a traitor _ that at the sight of his wounds. And he should. He’s alive right now because he’s under the Institute’s and Luke’s protection. If Raphael wasn’t concerned with starting a war, Simon would have been dealt with already, despite the obvious fondness that Clary described between the two vampires. If anything, Camille taught Raphael to take ruthlessness to an art form. As an afterthought, Magnus snaps Simon a new glass.

“He didn’t give a name,” Magnus shrugs. He didn’t ask either. “Anyway her stuff there is lost. So is her penthouse. Everything of value was gone when I went back there after waking up Jocelyn. But that one wasn’t Camille’s doing…”

“How do you know?” Alec asks, frowning.

“Camille wouldn’t have killed her subjugate with a seraph blade,” Magnus says. She wouldn’t have wasted the blood.

“That weird dude who greeted us? He was alive when we left, Valentine’s guys didn’t touch him.” Izzy assures.

“Valentine must have sent people back there”

“But why? And why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Alec demands, knuckles white around his fork.

“He’s raising an army. And sure, he can steal and threaten all he wants but things roll more smoothly with money. Camille has compensated her lack of heart with an abundance of cash since forever. The antiques back at her place must have fetched a good price on the black market. Enough to pay for a lot of things, like warlock magic -some of my brethren aren’t too fussy about their client’s intentions. And I wanted to investigate it first, darling.”

The look his boyfriend gives him is lukewarm at best. Shit, Magnus better figure out a balance between them and their jobs. Camille is -mostly- a downworlder concern but she’s also too involved with the current issue. Freely sharing intel with Shadowhunters isn’t something Magnus is built for, yet he’ll need to learn. He tightens his hand on Alec’s to catch his eyes and mouth a heartfelt  _ sorry _ at him. Alexander nods, once, and shovels rice in his mouth. 

At least he leaves his hand in Magnus’.

“But they didn’t take her personal stuff, did they?” Isabelle asks, cringing. Leave it to Isabelle to feel some empathy for Camille. Or perhaps she’s just disgusted at the idea of strangers going through her stuff, in which case Magnus wholeheartedly agrees.

“They did. My best guess is that they're looking for her too.” Magnus highly doubts that Valentine is interested in Camille’s undergarments for any creepy reasons or to have a nice business chat.

“Why? She’s a Downworlder… I doubt Valentine would be keen on working with her,” Alec says, voicing Magnus’ thoughts.

“More money? Intel? She is older than me. Some says she was there when old Jonathan Shadowhunter was in diapers. Valentine must think she could help him with something… after some  _ encouragement _ of course.”

Stupidity isn’t one of Camille’s less than attractive traits. Valentine would have to pry her head open with torture before she agreed to help someone who is plotting the extermination of her entire species.

Izzy absently nods, looking pale and unlatches her necklace, passing it to Magnus over the dinner table. Nothing that Valentine wants or needs is good news for them. Finding Camille might be vital. Magnus squeezes Alexander’s hand and lets go.

“You think it will work?” Alec asks, eyeing the necklace in Magnus’ hands curiously.

“Only one way to know.” 

Magnus closes his hands over the necklace, then his eyes, slowing down his breathing and picturing Camille. 

He sees Isabelle instead, looking dubiously at him, as clearly as if his eyes were open. Of course it can’t be that easy. Digging deeper, Magnus has a glance of someone he might know, or might have met when she was younger; probably the last Lightwood woman to wear the ruby before Izzy. He can’t contain his grin of satisfaction because Maryse doesn’t have a significant claim on the piece of jewelry and that’s something he’s pettily happy about.

Flashes of a woman he can’t remember but they pass quickly -dead, then- in his mind, replaced by new ones, as quick but somehow clearer. That woman Magnus knows well. Anna, Cecily’s daughter, herself William Herondale’s sister, to whom he gifted the necklace to help him so long ago. The flashes are rapid, the link between Cecily, William and the necklace fragile after so long. Just a thread of remembrance.

And then, he sees Camille. Not as she was138 years ago when she sent back the ruby to him by carrier, but as she must be right now, stupidly big iphone in her tiny hands. He doesn’t have the time to truly settle in the vision that she turns to him and smiles, like she can somehow sense him.

_ Oh no _ .

“Now, now, Magnus, that’s hardly fair, don’t you think?” she says, voice sweet as poison. “If you craved my looks that much, you only had to ask.”

Suddenly Magnus is thrown back, violently pushed away from her. Back in his body, his chair nearly topples down from the shock, the mental energy translating in the physical world painfully. He grips the table side to stabilize himself, breathing heavily.

“Magnus!” 

Alec’s voice, like clear water, brings him back entirely from his vision.

“I’m.. okay,” he says. “No. I’m… that bitch. She cloaked herself. Must have cost her an arm.”

“You can cloak a Downworlder from a warlock? Instead of warding a place?” Clary asks, looking at Isabelle for confirmation. “Can they do it against Shadowhunter tracking?”

Isabelle frowns. Obviously she doesn’t know if that’s possible. Good.

“It’s difficult, but doable.” Magnus says hesitantly, withholding the details from them. It’s not his secret to give to Shadowhunters, even his friends. Warlocks have been privy to this particular trick for centuries now, using it only when one of them -or a Downworlder- is wrongfully hunted down by Shadowhunters. It works a lot like the  _ deflect _ rune on Alec’s neck. Just way, way more painful. “She allowed me a peek to gloat and then metaphorically punched me.”

Magnus magics the ruby back around Izzy’s neck with a snap of his fingers.

“So what now?” Simon inquires. 

“Well… if we can’t find Camille ourselves… We will have to ask Camille for help,” he says enigmatically, winking at Simon.

“Alec I think your boyfriend is broken, he’s not making any sense,” Simon stage whispers, eyes not leaving Magnus’.

“Quiet now, Salmon,” Magnus orders, snapping a pen and a piece of paper from his study. He quickly writes a few words to Tessa and draws the warlock equivalent of the fire rune on the corner, the only means of communication with the Spiral Labyrinth. The paper burns brightly and is gone in an instant. Magnus hopes that Tessa will actually read it, unlike the texts he sent to Cat for the past three weeks. “I always make perfect sense, it’s just that you’re not -”

“I think we get it,” Clary cuts, her palm covering Simon’s mouth, probably to stop him from saying something that could anger Magnus even more.

Magnus rolls his eyes and serves himself some wine then texts Raphael, ignoring Simon and Clary’s gross exchange on his left -he licks her palm and she wipes it on his shoulder with a groan… truly those two are disgustingly adorable. Clary better clean her hand, though; Simon probably drooled blood on it. And that’s just unsanitary. 

 

**> > Camille is cloaked. I asked Tessa to use her expertise to find her. In the meantime, be careful. I think Valentine is after her, too**

 

Waiting for Raph’s reply, Magnus takes Alexander’s hand back in his and the Shadowhunter smiles between two bites of chicken. Izzy was right to call him a hungry bear this morning.

 

**< < More Shadowhunter trouble. **

 

Oh, that period at the end of the text is enough to make Magnus bristle. He can hear the sarcasm from DuMort.

 

**> > Your Simon is okay btw**

 

He sends. Might as well begin his plan to get back Simon into Raph’s good graces.

 

**< < He’s not my anything**

**< < My biggest disappointment perhaps**

 

**> > So you had hopes! No take backs**

**> > Anyway he’s annoying and I’m guessing that means he’s in good health or whatever but Clary and Izzy seems happy to baby him around. Pretty sure he enjoys the attention a lot**

 

**< < I. Don’t. Care.**

 

Magnus smiles down at his phone. He tried to do it the nice way.

“Izzy? Could you scoot your chair a bit closer to Simon’s?” he smirks. This is going to be fun.

She does as she’s asked with a frown. Across the table, Alec is watching her getting closer to Simon with a constipated expression.

“Perfect! Now both of you smile at each other and look extremely happy,” he directs. Giving orders has always been Magnus’ life long passion.

“Hum? What are you doing?” Alec gawks at the display some more, like he can set Simon on fire for making googoo eyes at his little sister. Strangely enough, Clary doesn’t seem too pleased by Magnus’ demands either. And he knows for a fact she’s not into Simon.

_ Interesting. _

“The girls didn’t tell you? I’m helping with Simon’s boy trouble.”

The vampire chokes on nothing and everyone else -bar Alec- snickers.

“What? Boy- I don’t have- what are you-” Simon tries to says, stammering through his sentence like a confused puppy. Alec does the same thing, only cuter.

“The giant Raphael-shaped hole in your life?” Magnus helpfully nudges.

“Oh!” Simon exclaims, brightening. “But how is this,” he gestures wildly at his and Izzy’s proximity, “going to help?”

_ He’s kidding, right? Can he be  _ that  _ obtuse?  _ Magnus thinks to himself.

“Vampires are territorial,” he says with a grandiloquent tone. “Now smile at Izzy like she’s your only sunshine or the only way I can get you back in DuMort is turned into a rat. An ugly one”

Simon gulpes but complies. 

 

**> > Look at your sweet Simon roll**

 

Magnus sends to Raph with the cheesiest picture he could take. He even added little pink hearts above their heads for good measure.

 

**< < What the hell is he wearing??**

 

Okaaay. Not the answer he was expecting. He glances at Simon, who’s looking expectantly at him in return, biting his nails and one foot fidgeting so much Magnus can feel the vibration through the table. Simon’s wearing an unfortunate (and unflattering) green plaid shirt. It’s a thousand miles away from what he was wearing at the wedding. Damn, it probably was Raphael’s fucking clothes that night, Magnus realizes with awe. This is blackmail material for decades to come.

 

**> > Well he’s living with werewolves, what did you expect? **

**> > Luke probably has one of those ugly sand colored jackets with Simon’s name printed on the back ready. Next time you see him he’ll smell like them**

 

Magnus cackles at the nonsense he is unloading on Raphael, causing his present friends to look at him apprehensively. 

 

**< < Wasn’t he listening? Green doesn’t look good on vampires!**

 

**> > Hey he does look paler than usual**

**> > But so happy**

 

**< < I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work. If I see the kid I will gut him myself**

 

_ What a downer. _

 

**> > He said he was sorry!**

**> > He misses you and Alexander doesn’t want him to sleep with his sister so do me a favor and take him back**

 

**< < No**

**< < Don’t bother texting me anything that isn’t Camille’s location, I won’t answer**

 

Magnus frowns and makes a mental note to ask Izzy for selfies of her and Simon so he can spam Raphael with them. And visit Raphael’s mother, sweet Guadalupe, to update her on her son’s dating life. She probably is going to love Salmon, so Magnus doesn’t feel bad using the little old lady against her own son.

Magnus’ phone chimes once again.

 

**< < Don’t think for a second that I don’t know who caused that horrid smell in my bedroom earlier**

 

_ Oh Raphael, this is just starting. _

 

*

Magnus sets in phone on the table. 

“Salmon, I trust that you have a nerdy Star Wars t-shirt stashed somewhere?” he asks.

“Hum… how did you know?” Simon asks, shifting awkwardly on his seat, uncertain of the meaning of Magnus’ question.

“He has a nerd detector in his pocket,” Alec impassively declares and Magnus wants to high five him. 

“Haha, mock the geek, Lightwood.”

“Well, now that I have your permission,  _ Lewis _ ,” Alec snarks back with a little salute.

Magnus smirks at him, not even a little bit turned on by Alexander’s smug tone. Though, he can’t help but spy the silent conversation the girls are having. Lots of eyebrows, scrunched up nose and private smiles. Izzy catches him staring and clears her throat, looking away.

“Why do you need Simon and a ‘Star Wars’ shirt anyway?” she inquires, not missing a beat.

“Because Raphael Santiago is the one nerd to rule them all and, since we went together see the first Star Wars movie, he’s obsessed with the damn franchise -which reminds me, he owes me $200... Kept saying that the mundanes would have blown up the moon by 2000. Poor thing won’t know what hits him when we show up at DuMort with Simon all dolled up.”

“You consider wearing Star Wars apparel as  _ enticing _ ?” Clary mumbles, appalled.

“I don’t. But Raphael will appreciate the effort if we couple it with a nice Marc Jacob blazer. Trust me biscuit, a tasteful show of forearm is always the solution to win someone over.”

Clary turns away from him and mouths something at Isabelle that he doesn’t catch but he doubts it’s flattering. Whatever, he knows what he’s talking about and perfectly remembers the look of pure agony Alec had given him during their first date when Magnus had pulled off that particular trick. 

“What’s Star Wars?” Alec inquires with a serious tone.

“Please tell me you’re joking, darling,” Magnus half chuckles.

“I... actually don’t know what that is either,” Isabelle slowly admits, glancing around as she does, wincing at Magnus, Clary and Simon’s shocked expression.

Those poor deprived children.

“But this is great! We could have a movie night!” Simon excitedly screams.

“Do you even have a TV?” Clary asks Magnus, while fondly smiling at her best friend’s antics.

Magnus waves his free hand around, conjuring a flat screen before he can even stop himself. He’s going to spoil them rotten if he continues doing that, he muses; he always ends up doing whatever they ask, even without them asking. Bad Magnus.

“No movie night nonsense,” he declares with gravitas, trying to regain some power over the kids. “Alexander and I will cuddle up in front of the movies at some point in the future and you will stay as far as the loft as I tell you, understood?” He points a commanding finger at Simon.

Across from him, Alec just smiles, clearly on board with the cuddling if nothing else.

“And poor Izzy? You're keeping an American treasure from her!” Simon rants widely.

“Isabelle will enjoy the movies cuddled up with the person of her choice,” Magnus shoots back, winking at the young woman in question. “Away from my couch if you take my meaning.”

Isabelle blushes and Magnus, who doesn’t think she does it that often, counts it as a win.

Clary, though, rises to her feet and shamefully turns on the flatscreen and zaps through the channels until she hits Fox Sport.

On Magnus’ left, Simon mutters “oh no… not soccer” in a plaintive voice. Clary, plate forgotten, stands in front of the tv, eyes riveted to what appear to be a female soccer game. 

“Biscuit? Your chi-”

She shushes him, one arm half raised and beginning to chant something under her breath, apparently following the action on screen and encouraging the player. When he turns to Alec and Izzy, both of them shrug. Simon is resolutely not turned toward the tv, morosely swirling the blood in his glass, arm supporting his head. 

“Come ON! Fu- OH MY GOD COME - YEEEEEEEEES!” Clary screams, bouncing on her feets. 

“What just happened?” Izzy asks, peeking at Clary above her shoulder.

“I’ve been wandering the same since forever. And the worst is that she’s alone. Imagine Jocelyn and Luke screaming and hooting too. Last World Cup was a  _ nightmare _ for me…” Simon groans.

In the meantime, Clary apparently dialed Luke because she is incoherently screeching something about someone named Morgan being amazing or something, repeating “but Luke it’s was spectacular!” again and again, until another player from the opposite team nearly scores and Clary’s swear is so crass that Magnus - _ Magnus-  _ feels like throwing holy water at her face.

Okay, so biscuit is crazy. Good to know.


	2. Chapter 2

*

Alec would say that this dinner is a tremendous success. Dessert is served (Izzy’s favorite, a weird combination of mango sorbet and pistachio ice cream, is piling up in the new special plates she bought earlier) and it’s perfect. Everyone, even Simon, is looking stuffed -though Alec wouldn’t have said no to a third serving of tandoori chicken. And thank Raziel, Clary calmed damn from her soccer high… Alec feels damn lucky that she didn’t catch the full game, because she’s terrifying.

Apparently the “poor thing” missed all the games since the whole Shadow World reveal and needed her fix. 

“Hum.. that’s weird. Alec, do you remember the scheduled recon missions for this evening?” Clary asks after looking down at her phone for a while, her tiny frown letting Alec know that something bad and/or annoying will happen in his near future.

Alec scratches his head with the hand that isn’t lightly holding Magnus’ on the table (Simon spent the meal making muffled squealing noise over this, it’s rather embarrassing). He’s pretty sure that he made a schedule draft this morning, but shit. So much happened since then. 

“Not really… why?” he says finally. A bit of his trouble must be detectable in his voice because Magnus squeezes his hand and gives him a smile (Simon, on the other end of the table, doesn’t miss a beat and  _ squeals _ ).

“Luke just texted me. Apparently one of his werewolves found a Shadowhunter, all alone, patrolling the docks around Jade Wolf. Didn’t your dad explicitly speak against solo hunts?”

“Yes, he did.” Now Alec is frowning. This could be nothing or it could be Valentine’s dreaded return. “Was that Shadowhunter hostile? Did Luke have a name?”

“I’m gonna ask,” she says, already typing a message. “But Luke didn’t seem… too concerned in his first message.”

Only a minute pass before Luke texts her back. As she reads the message, Clary’s eyebrows rise to her hairline.

“Oh myyy,” she giggles, nose all scrunched up.

“What?” Simon asks.

“So... hum. Apparently someone named Vincent wants Raj’s number because, I quote, “cute butt alert”... What the hell?” She turns her phone to Isabelle like she needs confirmation from someone else that what she just read is real. Izzy, in turn, starts giggling as she reads the text.

At Clary’s mention of Raj, Alec feels a nasty blush spreading on his cheeks. Not only because Raj has -apparently- a crush on him, but also because he never realized. Hello, blindness. Unfortunately Magnus doesn’t miss his reaction.

“You okay Alexander?” he asks lightly.

Alec blushes harder, embarrassed. There is no good way to tell your boyfriend that someone else is into you. Which, if Alec was honest, is quite comical. Two months ago he was convinced to be the least desirable person on earth and suffered from a desperate case of singlehood.

“Don’t worry about him, Raj went full-on jealous idiot this morning. And Alec finally got a clue- after months of pining and three weeks of the most obvious flirting, mind you,” Izzy says conversationally, pouring more blood in Simon’s glass. Clary vehemently nods along, a big stupid smile on her face, ready to add some details to Izzy’s declaration.

Magnus chokes on his wine and coughs violently.

“What did you just say?” he asks, voice muffled by the napkin he puts on his mouth.

“Oh, well, I guess Alec didn’t have time to tell you. Raj has the biggest crush on Alec,” she explains. By her expression, Alec realises that she isn’t trying to be embarrassing or mean. She probably just find the situation hilarious, as she usually does when it highlights Alec’s amazing social skills. 

Still.

“Isn’t Raj the guy that keeps trying to send you to prison?” Simon asks Isabelle, frowning. “The one that was hanging to every word Alec said the last time I went with you patrolling?”

That launches Isabelle in her anti-Raj rant of the day but Alec just shuts her out, risking a glance to Magnus, who looks a bit stricken. 

Magnus stands up suddenly, dropping Alec’s hand like it burnt him and goes to the kitchen carrying his plate with him, shoulders stiff and his usual grace all gone. Alec is left staring after him but Clary nudges his foot urgently under the table and pointedly sticks her chin in the direction Magnus disappeared.

He scrambles up and goes after his boyfriend, dread in his stomach.

 

*

“Magnus?” 

Of course. He should have know that someone would have followed him. He turns around, trying to appear as collected as possible. All Alec does is stand in the entryway awkwardly, biting his lip nervously with arms crossed defensively. Magnus feels his fake smile falter. This can’t be good.

“Hey darling. You needed something? Honestly, the girls did an amazing job at stocking the kitchen. Though it will be some time before I get use to it,” he says as he looks around for something, anything, to bail him out from explaining his earlier behavior. He takes a platter of fruits in a death grip and presents it to Alec. “Want some?”

But instead of accepting Magnus’ fruit offering, Alec takes the platter out of his hands and puts it back on the kitchen counter without breaking eye contact. 

“Hey. About Raj… I... hum,” Alec begins before Magnus cuts him.

“I’m not upset. You’re extremely...  _ crushworthy _ . If my pride allowed it, I would say that I nursed a pretty vicious crush on you, too, sweetcheeks,” he tries to joke but his voice is all wrong, his heart not in it and it falls flat. Shit, shit, deflecting never really works with Alexander anyway. He’s just too damn straightforward and caring to stop without getting an honest answer out of people.

“Magnus.” There it goes, time to brace himself. “I don't care about anyone having a crush on me. Except you,” Alec says gently as he cups Magnus’ cheeks with his hands. The warlock melts at the touch, releasing a small contented moan. How he ever lived without Alexander’s caring hands on him, he doesn’t know. How he deserves it is an even bigger mystery.

“I’m sorry. Today was… trying,” Magnus explains, a tired smile the only thing he can offer right now. But when he looks at Alec, the younger man is frowning. “Not the you part. It’s  _ never _ the you part. Just… work I guess,” he adds. “And Catarina -I think I mentioned her?- she made some valid points today at lunch. I just wish this was over, that we could just be happy, you know? That you and your family got Jace back, that Valentine was truly dead this time and we could… concentrate on nice things for once.” Damn, it feels good to voice this.

Alec smiles at him and kisses his hairline, gently, and then the corner of his mouth, gentler still. Those small tokens of affection leave Magnus breathless and aching for more. Not physically -though he would be lying if he said he didn’t want Alexander that way, too- but more. Just more. Everything that Alexander would give him. That makes Magnus feels like an ogre but he doesn't give a shit. 

“Me too. But I still don’t see why you’d concern yourself with Raj.”

_ Ah _ . Magnus struggles with himself for a moment. This feels like a test; not from Alec, but from life.

Can he let Alec in? He chooses to try.

“Remember that conversation we keep avoiding about my immortality?” Alec tenses immediately and it breaks Magnus’ heart to bring up the subject, especially today. Yet Alexander asked. “Well, Catarina forced it on me. And… Well, I guess that when I heard that someone else, not only a mortal but a Shadowhunter, wanted you… It would be so much easier for you to go and pursue him and…”

“I’m sorry, I’m going to stop you right there,” Alec interrupts with a tone that doesn’t leave much room for disobedience, stepping closer to Magnus and resting his forehead against his. “I want to be with you, Mags. If I cared about easy, I would have married Lydia. I wouldn’t have come out. I wouldn’t have told my mom to shut up this morning.” He takes a breath, closing his eyes for a moment and Magnus just, stands there, enthralled by this beautiful man in front of him. “I wouldn’t be here, with you. You spend your time reassuring me, you're so careful. I almost forgot that perhaps you would need that as well,” he finishes in a whisper, like he is ashamed of his supposed failing.

How does he do that? This thing where he just gets inside Magnus’ head and untangles him from his dark thoughts? Taking all the knots onto himself and bearing their weight and pressure for the rest of them. The words of Will Herondale echoes in his head once more. “ _ E _ _ very time a choice will come up they’ll pick you, _ ” he said all those years ago. Damn, but Magnus is feeling inclined to believe him.

“You reassure me plenty, Alexander. I just want you to be happy.” More than anything. Magnus would rather hurt himself than let Alexander carry more weight on his shoulders. It’s just the way it is. The reason he walked into that wedding three weeks ago. It frightens him that he would do a lot more.

“I’m happy  _ with you, _ ” Alec shots back quickly. He takes his hands back from Magnus’ face and wraps his arms around him instead, engulfing him in the the warmest hug the warlock has received in the longest time. “The only reason I’ve been pushing that conversation away is because I’m… I’m trying to see if it’s worth it.”

That makes Magnus’ throat clench with pain and he tries to get out of the embrace, to run because damn it, why does he-

“Don’t be stupid Magnus,” Alec admonishes immediately, hugging him tighter. “I know you are worth it. But you told me that you’ve been hurt before, that it took you a  _ century  _ to get back on your feet after Camille. I don’t want to make you sad again. And if I’m honest, I don’t really like to imagine you with someone else, forgetting me, I guess. Shit, that sounded less whiny in my head… and shit. I’m being selfish right now, aren’t I?... It’s really confusing.”

Before Magnus can answer, Isabelle’s shout take them both by surprise. They don’t entangle from their embrace, though.

“Guys! We’re leaving, okay? I’ll come back tomorrow to see about the furniture.”

They hear the door clicks shut and damn. Them having an emotional talk in the kitchen must have been too much, even for the three little gossips. He wants to laugh at that. What Magnus doesn’t expect is Alec’s quiet sniffle.

“What?” he asks, confused by the edge of desperation in the way Alec is holding him now.

“Don’t… send me away please,” Alec murmures with difficulty. It feels loud in the silence of the loft.

Magnus gets out of Alec’s hug only to get a good look at him. Oh, no. His boyfriend is crying.

“I’m not... Alexander,  _ I just got you _ , I’m not letting you go unless you want to. You can be honest with me about this. Just because you don’t know what to think of our possible future together doesn’t mean I don’t want you around. Or that I’m going to judge you for it.” Alec gives him a shaky nod, looking at him quickly and then away. “Hey, this has been a long day for the both of us. Just-just go and take a nice bath -the water never gets cold- and then we’ll go to bed.”

Alec turns red at the last words and Magnus can’t help but smile at his cuteness, wiping his tears away.

“But what about you?”

“I have the wards in your room to put up, darling. That and snap you a bed, might be convenient to sleep don’t you think?” he lightly says, some of his good humour coming back to him.

Alec nods again, with a shy smile this time and kisses Magnus on the forehead -Magnus sighs in relief. His Shadowhunter lingers a few more seconds in the kitchen before leaving the room.

Watching him go, all Magnus’ heart can beat for is a L-word that he shouldn't even remember from years of disuse. 

 

*

Isabelle and Clary wave at Simon’s van for a moment before quickly entering the Institute, not keen on staying outside in the chilling wind for too long. 

“You think Magnus and Alec are going to be okay?” Clary asks as she shuts the door behind them.

“If they talk and act like the grown ups they can be? Yes.” Izzy needs to believe that her big brother has a shot at happiness. And right now, Magnus is her best bet for that. “They’re probably hugging and holding hands right-”

“Isabelle!” 

_ Oh no no no no no… _

“Yes, mom?” she answers, swiftly turning around, not even bothering with a fake smile for her mother. 

She is standing in the end of the corridor, hands on her hips and what she must think is righteous fury in her eyes. The stubborn set of her lips that she never loses around Isabelle is there, too. Isabelle wants to punch her face off for what she did. For everything she’s constantly doing.

The only thing stopping her is Alec’s voice in her head. Ending up in a cell because she attacked the head of the Institute won’t help anyone.

“Where have you been?” It’s an order masquerading as a question, as always. Isabelle can feel the bitterness rising in her throat… Maryse never used that tone with Jace. 

“At Magnus’ loft,” Isabelle shrugs, taking Clary’s hand in hers to make her move. The faster they get to their rooms, the better it will be. 

Unfortunately, her mother moves in their way, forbidding.

“What the hell happened in Alec’s bedroom? And where is he right now?” Maryse demands.

That gives Isabelle a pause and she frowns. She glances at Clary, who looks as confused as she is.

“Alec is gone,” she says slowly. “You made sure he got that this wasn't his home anymore, so he left.” 

The result is immediate. Her mom’s face falls and she looks about to cry for a second. Just for a second. 

“You can’t be serious! Tell me where he is this instant!” she screams as she grabs Isabelle by the forearm. 

“Let go of her! You already lost two kids, you really want to lose your daughter as well?” Clary growls, forcing Maryse to let go -perhaps more by surprise than force, but still. Damn, Izzy is impressed by the venom in Clary’s voice; impressed and touched. By the way the smaller redhead puts herself between her and her mother -protective and pissed- hand not holding Izzy’s itching for a seraph blade that isn’t strapped to her belt (Isabelle will have to lecture her about leaving her weapons home again). But  _ damn _ … she can definitively see what Jace found so damn fascinating and attractive about her. Before the whole sibling mess, of course.

Maryse stands, shocked, in the middle of the corridor. Damn woman isn’t used to being told she’s wrong. Behind her, half a dozen Shadowhunters in the command center give up subtlety and are now openly gawking at the exchange, frozen by shock and various expressions of mild disgust on their faces. Izzy feels self-conscious at the display of disharmony in her own family, like they’re a spectacle. 

“What did you just say to me?” Maryse finally says after a long pause. Either she’s daring Clary to repeat herself or her brain broke under so much bullshit.

“I think you heard Clary perfectly,  _ mother. _ Your ex-Circle guru took Jace away from us and now you antagonized Alec so much that he had to leave his home and family to avoid being confronted by your contempt and judgement everyday. What’s next, huh? What are you gonna finally do to make me snap? When are you going to begin brainwashing Max, telling him he’s not good enough, pretending that it’s for his own good?” she shot angrily at her mother. Izzy might still have Alec, yet she feels like he’s gone nevertheless. All because of her mother. 

And yes, perhaps it’s okay. Perhaps it was time that she grew out of having her brother around 24/7, but not like this. Alec finally having someone of his own, being happy, was supposed to be a joyful event. Isabelle won’t forget and she won’t forgive.

Her speech leaves Maryse’s mouth slightly open in shock, silent for once.

Izzy takes that as a cue to leave, dragging Clary behind her, glaring at everyone looking at them the wrong way.

 

*

Alec was right this afternoon when he first saw it. The bathtub is _ fantastic,  _ even without Magnus in it to keep him company -though that particular addition would be welcomed. It accommodates Alec’s build easily, letting him dunk himself under the water entirely -comfortably, even. Something he never was able to do, since he’s kind of a giant. And what did Magnus say? That the water never turns cold? Damn, that will get extremely useful when he and Magnus share a bath. A sexy bath. Or a romantic one. Both, if Alec gets his way.

The bathtub is full of bubbles -Alec, who never took a self-indulgent bath in his life, completely misjudged the quantity of product to put in. And he might have provoked a mini flood when he got in, eager as he was to immerse himself in warm water. He’s a terrible boyfriend. 

A terrible, but relaxed boyfriend. All the tension seeped out of his body the second he sank into the water, leaving him a whimpering mess, free of worries.

It’s probably why he dozes off after a while, without meaning to, head resting on the edge slowly feeling more and more heavy.

_ Jace. _

It’s a jolt coursing through his veins, waking him up and making him take a sharp breath. Underwater.

No. Not him. Alec isn’t underwater, but it damn feels like it, like he is drowning and… water in his lungs, a sharp pain at the ankle, weighting him down, down… water burning all around him, screaming, kicking to no avail... and it’s gone. Alec grunts, curling up on himself, clutching uselessly at his throat. The pain is gone, leaving a strange and unpleasant sensation in Alec’s mind. He’s aware of Jace, of his heartbeat but… It’s like he’s feeling  _ around _ Jace. A weird spiritual negative space.

He’s unconscious then. Yet his  _ parabatai _ is broadcasting unease loud and clear through their bond. Alec shivers, warm water around him doing nothing to chase his chills away.

Thing like this happened a few times in the past three weeks. Deep slashes to the gut, healed immediately. Phantom pain on his knuckles, left to sting. Chest heaving, nightmares that aren’t his, silent screams and punches to the face.

Alec can’t stand any of it but he’s powerless to help Jace. The only thing he can do is worry and send encouragement through the bond. Love, understanding. Hope. Alec tries to concentrate on a feeling -home- but he can’t get it across, either because he’s too tired himself or his own struggle with the concept those past few weeks made him incapable of sending it to Jace.

He hastily drains the water and washes the bubbles away from his skin.

 

*

Once he’s put on sweatpants and a t-shirt (and cleans the floor, he’s not a heathen), brushed his teeth and taken a hundred calming breaths, he exits the bathroom.

Magnus isn’t in the living room and his bedroom is opened but empty as Alec glances in it. The nephilim checked in  _ his _ bedroom then, since he doesn’t know where Magnus’ study is; his boyfriend told him once that the door is obscured by a spell, a smart move when one his harboring dangerous artifacts or a priceless warlock spell book. 

Sure enough, Magnus is in Alec’s bedroom, looking at something through one of the windows.The light isn’t turn on but with his  _ nyx  _ rune Alec can see a giant bed has been put against the farthest wall. It looks fluffy enough to drown in.

Alec clears his throat to catch Magnus’ attention and the warlock gracefully swirls on his feet, beaming at him. Damn, but does he looks good. Just seeing him makes Alec calmer, more at peace. Anchored. It also reminds him that he is alone with Magnus. In  _ their  _ loft, alone. Truly alone - together- for the first time in weeks. 

“How was that bath?” he asks as he approaches Alec, eyes staring at Alec’s hair and smiling at the mess it is, all fluffy because of the lack of product. The nephilim pats it down self-consciously.

“I’m dumping you for that bathtub,” Alec jokes.

“Oh, that’s how it is now?” Magnus drawls, lightly setting his hands on Alec’s hips. “You prefer to get cosy with my bathtub?”

Alec can’t help the shiver that runs down his back. He’s not going to survive living with Magnus, is he?

“You’re jealous,” he teases, getting closer and looking down at Magnus’ lips with hunger, “of the bathtub?” He passes his forearms around Magnus’ neck, hands rubbing teasingly at it.

Magnus answer him with a kiss. It’s not light, nor gentle. The kind of kiss that could turn into something more if they so chose. Sweet, with a hint of teeth and sharp intakes of breath in the brief pauses they allow themselves. Alec makes a sound at the back of his throat when Magnus’ hands tightens on his hips, not quite a whimper but as desperate, and Magnus moans into the kiss something that is probably one of his sensual  _ Alexander’ _ s _ ,  _ distorted this time by pleasure.

Slowly they migrate against a wall, Alec gently guiding Magnus, bodies fiercely pressed together and holy shit, he doesn’t know what comes over him but he takes Magnus’ wrists in his hands, pushing them up, up, up, well above their heads, pinning them back against the wall, sucking on Magnus’ lower lip as he does so. Magnus half sobs in pleasure, eyes tightly shut. And Alec thinks about that wanton purple scarf he loves so much. How he could just walk into Magnus’ bedroom to retrieve it and...

Jesus, now that he has confirmation that Magnus likes a bit manhandling, Alec  _ wants  _ to drive Magnus crazy with it. Just you wait, scarf, just you wait.

His boyfriend rolls his hips, just a little, just enough to have Alec do the same. In his head, he’s hyperaware of all the points of contact between their skins and all he can think about is how much more he wants. And there is a bed nearby, a bed that begs to be put to good use and-

Magnus yawns. Loudly. 

And Alec, Raziel help him, giggles. In seconds, both of them are giggling like children, the searing heat between them not forgotten, just pushed aside by the sweet and comforting feeling of companionship. 

“We should go to bed,” he says, somehow the voice of reason. 

“I second that,” Magnus agrees softly, yawning again and Alec releases his wrists, caressing his forearms as he let go. Still, they look at each other, taking their time. Magnus finally steals a small kiss, then another, and a third. 

“Goodnight, darling,” he murmurs against Alec’s lips.

“Goodnight, Mags,” Alec echoes.

He looks at Magnus go, just a bit of regret in his pants. But it’s overshadowed by the most exciting feeling of anticipation.

Better they don't go further now anyway, not with all that the happened today. Perhaps one day sex could be used as relief between them but Alec knows in his heart that they need more meaning for it the first time around. 

 

*

Izzy is pissed. Pissed at her parents, pissed at Valentine, pissed at everything. 

Stomping across her room for the hundredth time doesn’t help and Clary is looking at her worriedly from where she’s sitting cross-legged on the bed. 

Hell, she’s even pissed at Clary for fitting so well in her bedroom. Not much, though.

“You’re making me sick walking around like this. Sit or go take a cold shower but whatever you’re doing, it’s not helping,” the red head groans.

Isabelle has a sharp reply for that but she keeps it to herself. Her real anger isn’t against Clary. Reluctantly, she sits on her sofa, breathing heavily from containing the fury inside.

“Now that’s better,” Clary says as she turns so they’re face to face. “Do you want to talk about  it?”

“Talk about my mother?” Izzy mocks. “No, thank you. I think that the way she treats us is telling enough.”

“She didn’t act like that around Jace…” Clary says quietly, more to herself than to Isabelle. The result is the same. Isabelle stands up and walks aimlessly around with renewed fervor, trying to get rid of the jealousy she’s always felt toward Jace. 

“I hated him on the spot,” she admits, taking Clary up on her offer to talk.

“What?”

“Jace. Mom… she was hard on us even when we were little, it’s just that we didn’t realize. And then one day she comes around in the library during one of our lessons with Hodge with this blond kid in tow. She was nice to him, genuinely nice. Gave him a pass on everything ever since, every rule he broke, every name he called people… everything. And he was so damn… smug!”

“You guys didn’t like each other very well?” Clary’s confusion is clear.

“Oh, Jace got along with Alec just  _ fine _ . Even when he would accuse Alec of breaking stuff to our parents, Alec would just forgive him. And Jace… he knew I hated his guts.” Izzy pauses, lost in the memory for a moment. “He sounded so pleased with himself when he told me that he and Alec were going to be  _ parabatai _ .”

“You felt like he was stealing your brother from you?”

“Retrospectively, I know why Jace was acting like that. He was lost and touched-starved… He latched to the first person who showed him kindness. But I was 10, so I punched him in the nose.”

“You  _ broke _ Jace’s nose?” she gasps.

“That I did. Felt good. Then Alec began to cry and Jace told me I was a bad sister.”

“What happened?”

Izzy chuckles. Oh, the shame she felt when Hodge had taken her and Jace into her father’s office, stormy expression on his face. Her parents had been in Idris at the time, leaving them in Hodge’s care as always. Truly, he had been more of a parent for them than Maryse and Robert ever were. Still, that didn’t stop him from betraying them all in the end, even the children he raised.. 

“Hodge made it pretty clear that the little feud between us had to stop. Took his chakrams out and asked us which side of Alec we wanted after he cut him in two.”

Clary’s eyes widened comically.

“That’s a bit… medieval,” she comments.

“But effective. But I-I…”

“You kept resenting him because of your mom,” Clary finishes for her. 

“As I said, he could do whatever he wanted and get away with it with a slap on the wrist. Me? Not so much. Mom nearly had an aneurysm when I first spent the night out with a guy. Dressed like a slut, acted like one… She didn’t use that word but it came across pretty loudly.”

“I’m so sorry, Iz,” Clary says, quickly standing up to give her a warm hug. Isabelle sinks in her arms, too glad for the unconditional support to feel like a bad person for enjoying the contact more than she has any right to. If only she had made a move on Clary  _ before _ Jace did. Now she feels like shit every time she thinks about it.

“Nothing you can do about it, Clary,” she says, relieved that her face is hidden in the redhead’s hair. “You should go to sleep, tomorrow you’ll have double training for all the stuff you missed today.”

“Ah! Noooo. I forgot about that, I fucking hate that new French dude… he’s so creepy. Can’t believe Lydia sent us that ass.” She releases Izzy and checks her phone. “I’ll have to go see Mom and -urgh- Raj. Perhaps he’ll be interested in that werewolf’s number.”

Isabelle’s laugh is genuine. 

“You will have to tell me  _ everything _ about that conversation.”

“I promise that I’ll give you the best details when I come back.” Clary crosses her heart and opens the door.

“What? When you come back?” Izzy repeats, lost.

“Don’t think I’m going to leave you alone in the state you’re in. I swore to Alec that I’d be there for you, and I meant it. It’s gonna be great, I haven’t had a slumber party since Simon started to get morning boners.” She dramatically shudders. “So embarrassing. Luke had to give us The Talk.” 

And with a last blinding smile she’s gone, leaving Isabelle devastated and overwhelmed by the affection that she feels for Clary. 

She’s going to need help for this. 

 

*****

Alec is slowly falling asleep when his phone starts to ring obnoxiously. Damn it. He quickly checks the caller and the time (Izzy and 1:35 AM -not that bad considering that he hasn’t slept in, oh, give or take 48 hours).

“Yes?” he says gruffly once he accepts the call.

“Oh my god, I need your help, like, right now!” his sister shouts in his ear.

“What?!” He’s already out of the bed, fully awake now, prepared for anything.

“I-I think Clary… well, no, I don’t, but-” She takes a long breath. “I think that I have some feelings for Clary. The romantic kind.” 

That’s… something Alec didn’t quite expect. Okay, he totally saw that one coming with the heart eyes the girls are giving each other on a daily basis but he didn’t expect Isabelle to be asking  _ him  _ for help.

“Alec? You’re still there?” she asks and Alec feels himself soften at her small, careful tone.  _ This is as hard for her as it is for me,  _ he thinks. Weird, he never thought for a second that he would ever live under another roof than Izzy -or Jace, for that matter. And now they’re having important conversations over the damn phone.

“Yes. Just thinking,” he answers, sitting back on his bed. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem. And she’s coming back soon!”

“Coming back?”

“She wants to sleep in my room tonight! A fucking slumber party, she said, whatever that means. I think she might have been flirting? I don’t know. Girls don’t usually register on my radar but she just…” She seems lost for words.

“Got under your skin?” he provides. He knows the feeling.

“Yeah… and I can’t do that, right? I mean, she’s Jace’s ex-potential girlfriend -is that even a thing? I think mundanes have rules for this,” she sighs in despair. 

“You sure she flirted?”

“I don’t know! She’s been a bit more… touchy-feely these past few days but it might be wishful thinking… By the Angel, you should have seen her roasting mom when we came back, she even stood in front of me. And it’s not like I was going to test the waters when I was seeing Meliorn and she and Jace had their thing but now that we’re both free...”

“Well, not that it comes as a surprise, but I’m not an expert at flirting with girls. Or getting flirted with by girls.”

“You don’t say,” she snarks and Alec can see the eye roll he’s getting clear as day.

“What I meant is that you should see where this goes.”

“And Jace?”

“Jace and Clary are brother and sister. Not to tell them how to live their lives but the sooner they move on, the better for everyone.” Not that he can tell Jace anything beside vague feelings these days. He doubts that “find yourself a new love interest” would be comprehensible over the bond.

“That sounds so simple.” 

“Because it is.” 

“Uh. So what do I do? When she comes back, I mean.”

“I dunno, do each other’s hair or something?” he snickers. 

“Remind me to hand you your ass the next time we spar, big brother,” she threatens sweetly.

“Noted.” 

“How are you, anyway? You guys seemed pretty tense when we left.”

Alec’s mind flashes back to the talk he and Magnus had in the kitchen.

“Good. We had a badly timed, yet overdue, conversation about his immortality. Well. More like the beginning of a conversation, really,” he explains.

The line is silent for a moment.

“That sucks,” Izzy comments eventually. 

Passing his hand over face, Alec grunts his agreement.

“But you guys are good, aren’t you? I won’t have to sit you down and make you talk?”

“Nothing so dramatic. We talked, we’re good.”

“Good as in ‘okay’ or good as in you’re in Magnus’ bed with him sleeping beside you?” she snickers.

“By the Angel, I knew you drew us away from the furniture on purpose!” Even through his fatigue, his indignation is strong.

“You should be happy someone is looking out for your interests! So you have a bed in that big, lonely bedroom of yours? That’s a pity. I’m sure Magnus would have been happy to share…” she teases lightly.

“Perhaps we’re not ready for that yet, Iz,” he tries to reason. Nevermind what happened before Magnus went to bed half an hour ago. He sighs… That was really hot.

“You guys seemed pretty  _ ready  _ to me when I caught you making out in the training room two weeks ago,” she giggles. Damn, she’s going to use that forever, isn’t she?

“Nevermind. Iz, I don’t know about you but I’m tired.” It’s true, his eyes are closing without his consent.

“Buzzkill. I love you, Alec.”

“Love you too, Izzy,” he says before ending the call. He puts the phone on the pillow he isn’t using and smiles.

Somehow, he thinks that they will be okay.


	3. Chapter 3

*

The moment Alec steps out of the bedroom - _ his  _ bedroom- his eyes seem to find Magnus immediately. He shouldn’t be surprised, it’s like he's tuned to Magnus’ presence somehow -hyperaware of his every move. Magnus might as well be the sun, his gravity so strong that the pull is inescapable. 

He is lounging on a sofa -one that wasn’t there last night- in front of the big windows, eyes closed and face turned to the morning light like a giant cat. The sight alone stops Alec from taking another step. He can’t remember ever seeing Magnus’ hair in such a state before, a complete mess, flat on one side and spiky on the other and his makeup-free face is marked by pillow creases. Alec takes it all in, the soft looking black silk robe loosely tied at his hips, the steaming mug in Magnus’ hands, the grogginess of his features. 

And Alec smiles.

Because he’s the first in the longest time to see Magnus like this, to see him so unguarded. To see  _ Magnus,  _ not as he wants the world to see him but as he is. A wave of possessiveness hits him. All the men and women that Magnus must have bedded, all of what they did with him, seen of him, none of it matters. Because Alec gets to see Magnus in the morning, looking tired and small. It’s probably a weird thing to be happy about but he doesn’t care.

Witnessing this is like an offering, speaking volumes of the trust Magnus placed in him when he gave him the key to the loft yesterday.

“Hey,” he says almost in a whisper, reluctant to disturb Magnus.

Magnus doesn’t opens his or answer right away. What he does is smile like Alec is a very warm ray of sunshine. 

“Hey yourself,” Magnus answers after opening his eyes. “Your hair's a mess, darling.”

Alec smiles and approaches Magnus and, once he’s in front of him, passes his hands through the warlock’s untamed hair. Even like this, it’s silky as fuck. He bends over a bit and kisses Magnus’ forehead and then his lips.

Damn, waking up has never been so rewarding.

“There’s more coffee in the kitchen,” Magnus informs him. Alec nods and walks away, pours some inky black coffee in a mug and adds four spoonfuls of sugar, heedless of what Isabelle would say about the aberrant amount.

He comes back to the living room and makes a beeline for Magnus, sitting on the couch next to him and lightly putting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. The other man just extracts his arm from in between them and drapes it on the back of the sofa, hand scratching at Alec’s nape.

“This is officially the best decision I ever made in my life,” Magnus murmurs softly before kissing the top of Alec’s head.

Alec chuckles.

“You won’t say that when I come back from a hunt at five in the morning smelling like a shax demon orgie,” he jokes and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Please don’t follow old Benedict Lightwood’s lifestyle… Demon pox is still incurable, you know,” Magnus begs, feigning concern.

“Well, that’s too bad… Guess I’m stuck with you,” he says, rubbing his cheek against Magnus’ black silk robe. He wonders if it would be rude to ask for one just like this for himself.

Before Magnus can comment on that, a fire message materializes in front of Magnus. The piece of  parchment is burnt around the edges and Alec can see it’s addressed to High Warlock Bane before Magnus snatchs it from the air with his free hand. 

Magnus read the message quickly and Alec can feel him tense against him.

“Something bad?” he asks. Not that he wants to pry, but he doesn’t want Magnus to think that his concerns aren’t Alec’s concerns as well.

“I don’t know,” the warlock answers. “My friend Tessa -the one I sent a message to last night about Camille- she’s not where she’s supposed to be. Yet the message went there and her assistant answered for her. She went away two weeks ago, apparently.”

“Fire messages always find their recipients,” Alec remarks, frowning. Even if people are under the protection of a  _ deflect  _ rune or in a warded place, fire messages can’t be avoided. 

“Yes they do,” Magnus says absently. “Though if someone was to develop a way to mislead them,Tessa would be my best bet. She’s always experimenting with magic.” His tone is fond but it doesn’t stop Alec from sensing Magnus’ undeniable worry underneath it, like he’s trying to convince himself that his friend is safe.

Alec remembers with a chill that only three weeks have passed since Ragnor’s death. He honestly doesn’t know how Magnus has been holding up so well. Perhaps he’s just really good at faking.

With that in mind, he snuggles closer to his boyfriend.

“You should give a call to Izzy, the Institute has re-” he begins.

“I love the sentiment but the last time a friend of mine went AWOL and we tried to involve Shadowhunters to look for him, the ones who did find him killed him on the spot,” Magnus cuts him short. There is a coldness in his tone that Alec’s never heard and it makes him uncomfortable.

“But… why?” he asks, incredulous.

“Because he was a warlock, Alexander. They didn’t think that they were looking for an half-demon to protect him.”

“But they didn’t have a kill order!” Alec shouts, dislodging himself from Magnus’ side and standing up, away from Magnus and his comforting warmth. This is the first time he’s heard a story like this one. It’s dreadfully close to the executions and death squads that Lydia told to him when she brought him to speed on the Circle. And Magnus talks about it like it’s  _ common.  _

“Like some Shadowhunters wait for those,” Magnus mocks without any humour in his voice. He downs his coffee and stands as well.

Alec wants to protest but shit, Magnus is right. They all assume that dealing with Downworlders means violence. Hell, he did too before actually meeting some of them in a social context. Alec feels sick at his own way of thinking, how he and Lydia just talked about torturing Meliorn and nearly went through with it without any kind of evidence against him or the Seelies. 

It hits him that he’s part of the problem. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, turning back toward Magnus. He’s ashamed of his own actions, of the words he spoke, not out of knowledge, but out of prejudice. “I’m no any better than my parents.”

Magnus looks up at him, a sad smile on his face.

“You’re learning to be better,” he says kindly. “That’s something.”

Alec vows to himself to do more than this. To live up to what he claimed to be to his mother yesterday, a better Shadowhunter. 

  
  
  


*

Once again, Alec is alone in Magnus’ loft -his loft. He supposes it will take some time to adjust to the concept. He has a place of his own, one he shares with his boyfriend. That makes his heart clench, in a good way. He looks around in wonder, taking in his surroundings far more easily than he did yesterday. It’s not familiar yet but it will be, eventually. 

One thing that strikes him now is the lack of personal items in the living room. Lots of art, sculptures of all sorts, trinkets and other decoration but no pictures, old or new. Perhaps Magnus is hiding a giant portrait of himself in his bedroom? Alec can absolutely picture it, all serious and dashing -life size, of course. Magnus can certainly use that as a mirror since he doesn’t age. 

The nephilim forces his eyes closed and takes a long breath. Even now that they’ve begun to broach the subject, Magnus’ immortality is quite painful to think about. And at the same time, it’s difficult to wrap his head around the concept. He might have seen the pictures in the Institute’s database (might have looked at some of them a bit too closely, if he’s honest) but they’re just that, pictures of an handsome man in different clothing. The only time he really felt Magnus’ age was when the warlock made cocktails after healing Luke. His confession had been heartbreaking to hear, even if Alec didn’t have feelings for Magnus at the time.

Immortality isn’t something he can really comprehend by reading about or imagine. He’s only 21. Five years is an eternity for him, never mind a century.

On a whim, he goes back to his bedroom and rummages through his box to find the picture of Izzy, Jace, and Max and one that he had printed a week ago. He looks at it longingly, thumbing Magnus’ face. The photograph was taken on their first date. Magnus made them cut the line at the club entrance and the bouncers had nodded, an air of recognition on their faces. Before entering, Magnus had whipped out his phone and asked for Alec to smile. 

Magnus was beautiful -he always is, but that night... That night was quite magical. Big purple scarf hanging around his neck, blond highlights in his hair and a smug smile on his lips, beaming at Alec all night long. The Shadowhunter still has vivid dreams about that purple scarf and his boyfriend’s wrists. On Magnus’ left in the photo, Alec is making a valiant effort at looking annoyed with the warlock’s need for a selfie but… damn. Of course Magnus kept coming back for him, kept trying to get through to him during those weeks before their first kiss. Because this picture captured Alec’s total adoration for Magnus and sure, it’s embarrassing as fuck and Alec is doubly embarrassed for the raw need he had to print the damn thing after Magnus sent it to him. But he loves that picture too much to care. 

Coming back to the living room, Alec frowns at the furniture there, trying to figure out the best spots for both pictures. He hopes that seeing this, Magnus might put up some pictures of his own. And perhaps he won’t, but that’s okay. Alec can fill up the loft with pictures he likes for the both of them.

He ends up putting the picture of his siblings in the kitchen, on one of the few free shelves. That way, he will see them everyday when he attempts at cooking. He smiles at it, even if seeing Jace hurts. They looks so young in this. So young and not nearly as fucked up as they are now. Max would have been what, four? Five? An eternity has passed since then.

The selfie is a trickier one to place. Alec wants it somewhere Magnus could miss at first, that could surprise him later. Perhaps even take his breath away for a second or two. Alec opts for the little low table by the massive window. It doesn’t attract the eye, it’s not really on display. It’s just there.

Alec smiles down at it. This is his home now. 

Which would be more comfortable if he had furniture besides a bed. 

He checks the time and it’s already 11:35 AM. Izzy should already be here by now, helping him with… this. The gigantic pile of catalogs has grown since yesterday and it was met with Alec’s vague noise of displeasure and Magnus, the magnificent bastard, stood on his toes to soundly kiss his cheek. As if Alec being the biggest grump in the world is endearing; perhaps it is, in which case, Alec so wins.

His patience is all gone (he ate a second breakfast justified solely by boredom, now he will have to train harder once he finishes his bedroom decoration) and he texts Isabelle.

 

**> > Are you so tired after that slumber party that you already forgot about your big brother? ;)**

 

Winking emoji. He hardly can believe that he just used that, Magnus is gonna be so proud. Izzy teases him like crazy about Magnus, it’s good to be able to do the same.

Unfortunately, his little sister answers after a good 30 minutes

 

**< < news flash, slumber party actually involved doing each other hair :///**

**< < She wasn’t flirting with me so I guess I freaked out on you for nothing and I feel dumb for hoping**

**< < Also I didn’t forget you how could you think that???**

**< < Clary is coming in a hour or two she missed training yesterday remember**

 

_ Shit. Clary, come on _ , he thinks. The way the redhead wasn’t pleased by the ‘let’s pretend Izzy and Simon are a couple for Raphael’s sake’ game last night was so telling.

 

**> > Clary’s coming? What about you? And you’re not dumb**

 

**< < Turns out your boring secretary job is actually really time consuming and accusing you of being a slowpoke was wrong **

**< < Mea culpa mea maxima culpa**

**< < So Clary will snapchat me if she has a doubt but I trust her judgement**

 

Well, Izzy could have just trusted that he wasn’t just a buzzkill for no reason. Every time she and Jace went out and had some fun, they had tried to drag him along but he refused, drowning in paperwork and responsibilities. Hodge had helped but… well. Now that isn’t an option anymore. The tutor had been here for him when his parents had unloaded some of  _ their work  _ onto his frail shoulders, a second father, an older brother that didn’t judge and gave you a hug when you failed. 

Alec quickly squashes down the feeling of longing for the older man’s reassurance. Nothing but lies. At least, that’s what Alec tells himself; it’s easier that way.

 

**> > You should ask Petra she’s cool with lending a hand on paperwork**

 

Well, she offered once or twice a year ago but it’s worth a shot.

 

**> > And my judgement is just fine, thank you very much**

 

**< < Did you ever accept? No it’s not.**

 

**> > Nope. She was trying to seduce me. Are you calling Magnus a bad judgement call???**

 

**< < How do you know that?**

**< < Magnus is the exception that confirms the rule dumbass**

 

**> > She shoved her cleavage to my face more than once. Even I’m not that blind Iz**

 

The doorbell rings before he can comment on his so-called bad judgement and Alec goes to the door, wondering what he will do if it’s one of Magnus’ clients. Or friends. Or Downworlders in general. And how they will react to him being there. In his damn pajamas.

He unlocks the door and opens it slowly, looking at the newcomer through the sliver of space.

It’s Clary. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, surprised by her appearance. He opens the front door completely to let her in.

“That’s a warm welcome…” she pouts as she enters the loft, dragging a black bag along with her. Alec sees the huge dark circle under her eyes and the angry set of her shoulder, like she’s itching for a fight, and worries immediately.

“But Iz said you would be there in two hours!” he exclaims. He didn’t have any time to change or to tidy up the mess he made on the coffee table with his second breakfast. “What is this?” he asks, pointing at the bag.

“I skipped on hand-to-hand training,” she shrugs, not sounding guilty at all. “And that’s the rest of your clothes. You left all your nice ones behind.”

“Oh.” He thanks her with quick smile and a nod but immediately cross his arms in front of him. “You can’t do this everyday, you know. Training is vital,” he stresses. This is bad, though. He was under the impression that they reached an understanding about the seriousness of the situation, of her situation. Untrained shadowhunters aren’t just a liability; they’re dangerous.

“If he continues to look at me like I’m a piece of meat, I’ll use his face as target practice, I promise,” Clary assures, going straight for the alcohol cabinet and serving herself a generous amount of something bright blue. He’s about to demands more details when his phone chimes.

 

**< < SEE YOU DON’T TELL ME ANYTHING!!**

 

**> > you would have made fun of me for it**

 

He puts his phone back on his pocket and return his focus to Clary, who’s downed most of her glass already. He crosses his arms again; what’s with his friends and alcohol? What were they talking about, again? The new trainer?

“What do you mean? If he tried -” he begins, furious.

“Wow, calm down, tiger,” she gestures at him to sit, which he doesn’t. “He didn’t try anything. He just… looks. It’s fucking creepy, if you ask me. He came to my room- my room!- to remind me of our session and since I wasn’t there -I kept an eye on Iz last night- he hunted me down through the whole Institute,” she says, tone and body language going from creeped out to angry. 

“You want me to speak to him?” he asks, coming closer to her. He doesn’t know when he stopped being intimidating to her and began to be reassuring, but the tension in her shoulders diminishes considerably when he puts his hands on them.

“Nah. But thanks for offering. I’ll deal with him,” she assures. 

Thing is, Alec trusts that she will. Spectacularly, if it needs to be done.

He pats her shoulders and steals her glass in a swift motion, carrying it into the kitchen and pouring the rest of her drink down the sink. 

“You did not just do that, Lightwood!” she screams after him and he pats himself on the back to have saved both her liver and her mood. He chuckles at her scrunched up nose and pissed off expression when she follows him into the kitchen. “You gonna wean Magnus off alcohol, too? He will be less forgiving that I am,” she says, punching his arm lightly.

Well, Alec might have a plan or two on how to replace alcohol in Magnus’ life. They all involve giving him something less damaging for his health and much more pleasurable. Not that he’s telling that to Clary. Or anyone else for that matter.

“Hey, where is he, anyway? Still sleeping?” she asks, lowering her voice as she says the words and wincing.

Alec blushes violently, suddenly remembering the outfit Magnus was wearing when he left. Tight, tight, tight. The nephilim had to stop himself from following him out of the door, either to continue his ogling or to scare away anyone on the street that would dare take a peek. So he is a possessive bastard, what of it?

“He went on a run,” Alec manages to get out, fighting the need to scream at the unfairness of it all. How Magnus had sashayed around, daring to bend over just so before picking up his iPod and headphones off of the coffee table. 

“Magnus runs?” Clary asks, frowning at him like she can’t quite believe him. It’s true that it’s somehow hard to imagine Magnus, usually so keen on lounging around in fancy clothes and fancier make-up with a glass in his hand, as a sport enthusiast.

“Apparently…” he answers, squirming under her scrutiny. 

Well. When Magnus had emerged from his bedroom, Alec had a minor heart attack, quickly followed by a boner alert that made him dizzy from the blood loss. All because Magnus was wearing that  _ thing _ that pretended to be fabric when it was obviously paint. 

Or as Magnus had called it, a running legging. It showcased his muscled legs and rock hard butt in a dizzying bright pinkish color. And the tank top he had on wasn't any better. So damn tight, abs deliciously outlined by the tight fabric. So much glorious skin exposed. Alec wanted nothing more in that moment than go grab his boyfriend and lick him all over -he couldn’t stop himself from sucking his own lip in, eager to... to have those legs spread in front of him, running his hands, his tongue, even, on them until he moved higher, higher still...

Magnus had caught the way Alec was staring at his legs, laughed and  _ smirked _ in that way that meant trouble, and announced that he needed to let out some steam -Alec didn’t dig into the meaning of that, he couldn’t or he would end up doing something stupidly pleasurable that would be cut short by his little sister’s arrival.

So he watched Magnus go, eyes riveted to Magnus’ magnificent ass, thinking about making a shrine dedicated to it in his bedroom. Because Alec could definitely worship that butt given the chance. 

“Hum. Earth to Alec?”

“Hum?”

“Oh, you went to your inner porn show, didn’t you?” she jokes, waggling her eyebrows in a way that would have Magnus scold her with an offended “Biscuit!”. Alec just winces and counts to ten in his head. In English. Then in French and then in Latin and the broken Swedish he knows. It helps curb his murderous tendency toward the teasing the girls put him through. 

“Not that it concerns you, but yes. Now help me furnish that bedroom so I can ravish Magnus in peace,” he shoots back.

Clary gasps and motions for Alec to move out of the kitchen.

“Lead the way. But I’m getting something to drink and you won’t stop me or I’ll tell Iz and Simon how you want to ravish Magnus like he’s a fair maiden… Damn, he sure would rock the lacy nightgown, don’t you -Ouch!” she shrieks as Alec throws her over his shoulder and carries her toward his bedroom.

She doesn’t even protest and giggles something about Luke’s piggyback being better.

 

*

“And so Raj told me to go fuck a pangolin,” Clary finishes, sipping her wine, furniture catalogs scattered on the floor around them both. They made it through the wardrobes, bedside tables, the desk -still no chair, though- and they are making progress on the curtains and carpet combo. 

Now they’re having lunch, some pizza they ordered because they were feeling lazy and Clary opened a bottle of wine. Izzy still hasn’t texted him back, which can only mean the sea of paperwork got the best of her or she’s making it her bitch. Alec knows his sister well enough to know that the second option is way more likely.

“Well, you could have been nicer to him, for a start,” he snorts between bites of his meat lover’s pizza with extra fried onions. “The guy was following Clave laws, same as Lydia and I. No need to throw that in his face every five minutes.”

“You weren’t happy about Izzy going on trial. He was. And Jace told me that he was going through my bras -my bras, Alec!” she says with indignation. 

“It wasn’t like he enjoyed it!”

“It’s the principle… Boys” She rolls her eyes so hard it hurts Alec to watch.

“Still. You shouldn’t have threatened him to make him a timber account! He’s not even out of the closet! Perhaps you should have let me do it.” 

“Hum, Alec, that’s real sweet but the guy needs to get over you, not be coddled by the object of his crush. Imagine having Magnus all nice and  _ not wanting you _ that way. That would be terrible. So give me some credit,” she says and he can’t help but nod, because that would be a nightmare. Pretty much what he put himself through every time he and Jace were close. 

“Okay…” he gives up.

“And it’s tinder by the way.”

“What is?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, since you have Magnus.”

It’s Alec’s turn to roll his eyes dramatically. 

“Still. I hope that this Vincent person wasn’t joking. Raj won’t take a chance ever again if the werewolf doesn’t show up.”

“Don’t worry.” She takes a huge bite out of her pizza slice and chews for a while, making a ‘just wait a sec’ gesture with her hand. Once she swallows, she continues, “Luke said he was a good kid and promised to keep him straight -well, figuratively, of course.”

“Good.”

So apparently Raj had take the werewolf’s interest positively and set up a date, then immediately freaked out and cancelled it, all while Clary kept live blogging it to Luke. And then Raj had mentioned that Downworlders weren’t to be trusted and Clary ranted a bit (meaning, a lot) and made a scene until Raj had caved and sent a cancellation text about the cancellation. It makes Alec feel slightly better about his social skills.

Then she had taken it upon herself to make sure that Raj knew that a lot of mundane guys would ‘love to tap that’, promptly sending him into a new freak out. Timber, or apparently tinder, was terra incognita for both Alec and Raj and probably not recommended for gay debutantes™.

“Anyway, then I went to see Mom, who sends her support to you but isn’t really pleased that I skipped training yesterday.”

“She won’t be happier when you go home,” Alec comments, pushing his empty pizza box away. He gingerly take a sip of the white wine Clary served earlier and damn. That’s the good stuff.

“I’ll deal with it.” 

Alec notices that she looks way less certain about that than standing up to the trainer -what is his name again? Bah, not important. 

“Seraph blade training with Izzy during our patrols is still go or do you want me to take over? We could do it here,” he suggests, remembering that before this mess, he and Izzy had the responsibility to train Clary in the field. Now that he isn’t in the Institute 24/7, it will be more difficult to plan.

“Where would we train? Hell, where are you going to train?” she asks, looking around.

“The casting room where we summoned that memory demon, I gather. I’ll have to-”

Clary throws him a fitness catalog with sport equipments and smiling blonde people on it -overly tanned, as orange as Clary’s hair. Alec flips the thing open, looking through it quickly. 

He whistles at the equipments it features. The casting room won’t be able to hold the half of what Alec needs to maintain peak physical condition AND leave enough space for weapon training. And he can say goodbye to his plan of training Clary with a bow. 

“Izzy will have to fit you somewhere in her schedule,” he says sadly, engrossed in the catalog. He looks up when she chokes at his words. “What?”

She shakes her head, blushing and coughing madly. 

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ Did he made some kind of innuendo without meaning to? About his sister? Ew. 

“She has better real life practice with blades anyway,” he continues.

“Shouldn’t  _ you _ be good at everything, Mr. Overachiever?”

“I would be deadly with a spoon,” he deadpans and Clary absently nods. “But since I don’t use blades much, it’s better that Iz trains you with it when we go patrol. She has great spacial awareness even when she's surrounded by dozen of demons. Me, I don’t usually have to worry about my immediate surrounding. I just shoot stuff,” he explains, a bit self conscious at the way Clary’s looking at him like she just figured something out.

“Oh, I see. Seraph blades are melee weapons. If you used one in fights you would have to concentrate on your enemies; You wouldn’t be able to help Jace or Izzy with their opponents like you do with your bow,” she says, fond smile on her face.

Alec sits there in the middle of illusions of furniture, discarded catalogs, and pizza boxes,  aghast at the way she had simply put it together. Iz and Jace had always been too confident of their abilities to fight. Even outnumbered they dove into the fray, oftentimes careless. The bow and arrows were just the best way to make sure no one caught them in the back or overwhelmed them in big numbers.

How many times did they joke about Alec stealing their kills? Hundreds, maybe thousands of times? He didn’t care. He just needed his sister and  _ parabatai _ safe and sound.

“Yours too,” he vows to Clary, avoiding her piercing eyes and diving back in the sports equipment catalog.

“What?”

“I’ll help with your opponents too, Fairchild.” Damn, Alec hates these touchy-feely talks.

“Oh. Does it means that we’re friends? Officially, I mean?” Even seated on the floor, she manages to gesticulate happily like a child, beaming Alec a smile that he can’t help but return when he summons enough courage to look up.

“Did you miss the past three weeks or are you, like, a Circle member spy?” he barks, giving her a suspicious once over. 

She feigns looking shifty, “Damn, you got me… Detective Alec closes another case. You’re so getting a deerstalker hat for your next birthday, by the way.”

“And she’s back to speaking nonsense. Forgot what I said, I can’t stand you.” Alec mocks. “It’s difficult not to like you, now. You’ve grown on me,” he says more seriously after sipping on his wine again.

“I was such a pain in your ass, wasn’t I?” she comments with a hint of regret in her voice.

Alec stubbornly flips from page to page in the catalogue he’s looking at, intent on not having this conversation with any kind of eye contact if he can help it.

“You weren’t the problem.” Much, he adds in his head. She was raised as a mundane, which made her quite incapable of following any kind of order. Not like them. “You were just the consequence of one and you shattered the statu quo without having a choice in it yourself. And you were loud. And angry. And scared.”

“Alec. Some of the stuff I did made it harder on you, you can say it,” she gently encourages.

“Yeah. That too. But I was mostly petty.”

“Because of Jace,” she says. It’s not a question. It still feels strange to have everyone know something he spent so much time hiding.

“Before you… Hell. I could fool myself that I had a chance, I guess. An impossible chance but… I was desperate enough for that,” he confesses. “But the way he feels -err... felt,” he quickly corrects, “was obvious. Reality caught up with me.”

“Must have sucked.”

“At first. At least now, I don’t have anything blinding me from your mild awesomeness.”

“MILD?” Clary shrieks.

“Adequate?” he teases.

“Well you’re an adequate friend too, I guess.”

“Seriously, though. Thanks.”

“What for?”

“Standing up for Izzy and me,” he clarifies with a shrug. Alec doesn’t think that anyone could stay cold toward Clary after all the things she’s done for them. “Iz and Lydia told me how you went all mama bear for me before the wedding. That means a lot since I treated you like a nuisance from day one. And last night, you apparently screamed at our mom on our behalf. You’re a good friend, Clary Fairchild.”

Alec risks a glance at her then. She’s smiling, some moisture in her eyes but he forces himself to ignore that. 

“Jesus. You want some coffee?” she asks, rising.

He nods, happy for the distraction.

“Then get up, slowpoke, I’m not your assistant,” she orders, poking him in the leg with her tiny foot.

 

*

It’s done.

All the furniture is picked out, even the training equipment, and Alec is exhausted. He and Clary are lounging on the sofas in the living room and he can’t imagine how mundanes do that kind of stuff without magic. The two of them went through all of the catalogues (except for the fashion ones, because his sister made the redhead promise that she would be there when they torture Alec with that). Alec is now the happy owner of an entire bedroom made out of thin air -without counting the excessively fluffy bed. 

It’s a nice bedroom but somehow, Alec is sure that Izzy will make modifications later on. And then there is Magnus’ exuberant sense of hospitality to account for. The warlock won’t leave him alone without showering him with free stuff, just because.

“I mean, it’s weird, isn’t it? I have a brother who I know nothing about about -nothing besides the painfully obvious. And who I wanted to date and make out with,” she groans seemingly out of nowhere, throwing her hands up in the air as she speaks. She’s been mostly silent for a while, eyeing the living room ceiling absently. 

Alec looks at her, at the tiredness on her face. He’s overwhelmed with the need to hug her. To take care of her. Not just because she’s Jace’s sister or his responsibility, but because he wants to. Needs to, even. But he doesn’t.

“If it makes you feel any better, Jace has been my brother since I was 10 and I wanted to make out with him, too,” Alec bursts out before smacking his own hand on his mouth. Shit, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He should have went with the hug.

“Weirdly, it does,” Clary jokes. “But it worked out for you?” Her tone is oddly hesitant, like she’s testing the waters, unsure of his state of mind. With everything that happened since their first meeting, her concern is more than legitimate.

“Yeah, it did.” It’s the truth. “Sometimes I feel like… like I can’t believe it, that I moved on. I loved him. A lot. But it was never going to be what I wanted. I guess I just needed to accept it, to let go of him.”

“I feel guilty,” she confesses, avoiding his eyes.

“What about?”

“The idea of moving on. Like… not just from Jace -which I’m fully committed to move on from, romantically speaking- but. Argh, why is this so hard to put into words?” she asks, throwing her hands up in the air again, frustrated. “Sometimes it feels like I am abandoning him, that every time I smile or breathe, that I-I… that he’s gone and by going along with it that, I’m disrespecting his memory or something. And he’s not even dead!” She nearly shouts the last words.

Alec can relate to her feeling of helplessness.

“I feel guilty for having Magnus,” he confesses in turn. “Not because of the feelings I had for Jace but because I’m happy and I know he’s trapped with Valentine. That man… he’s just plain wrong. A bad father. You should have heard the stuff Jace used to tell us when he came live with us. He had such pride in his voice but there was pain, too. Pain that didn’t know that it was righteous, that had been quenched and forced to shut up. And he went back to that to save us and it...” it wrecks him, but Alec can’t say the words out loud. He feels like it would destroy him even more to admit it that way. 

“I heard some… Is he… okay?” 

Alec looks down at his covered stomach, hyperaware of his  _ parabatai _ rune.

“He’s fighting. I don’t know against whom, but he’s fighting. Always getting hurt,” Clary gasps, putting her hand on her mouth like she need to stop herself from screaming, “getting healed. Mostly he’s sad. And angry. But he checks on me as much as I check on him, so I guess whatever Valentine is working inside of his head isn't taking yet.”

“How so?”

“Somehow, I don’t think Valentine is fond of the idea of his son being  _ parabatai _ with a gay Shadowhunter. Who is obnoxiously dating a warlock.” And now living with him in what Clave laws would kindly describe as  _ sin _ .

“So him checking on you -caring for you- means that Valentine hasn’t corrupted him,” she clarifies. It sounds like a prayer in her mouth. “Since he found out about our father, he just kept obsessing about being as twisted as he was...” She doesn’t say anything else, just leaves the silence of the loft to engulf them both.

They both sit quietly for a while, both unable to say anything else on the subject. Until something that Clary said hits Alec.

“You want to move on, don’t you? Romantically, I mean,” he can’t help but ask. Izzy’s going to kill him but it might be worth it.

Clary raises her head,  startled by his words, and blushes furiously. _Bullseye_.

“I don’t…” she begins, then stops herself. She stands up and goes to the window, hugging her middle. “Would it be wrong if I wanted? I mean, it’s obviously not the time with all the problems we have and I should really concentrate on my training but…”

“It makes you happy,” he finishes for her. “Magnus makes me happy. I think he anchors me. And, well, I think I anchor him, too. Just because the timing is bad doesn’t mean the relationship is.”

The redhead turns back to him, chuckling. At his answering frown, she says, “When did you get so wise?” 

Now that’s just uncalled for. Alec summons his best bitch face, the patented Condescending Big Brother™ -Izzy’s all time favorite.

“I’m always wise, it’s just that you guys are never listening.”

Clary loses it right then; a fit of giggles that, unfortunately, is contagious. In seconds, they’re both cackling, letting all that stress go in one big explosion of laughter.

When they calm down a bit, Alec is sprawled out on the couch, long legs balancing in the air and Clary is on the floor, head resting against the wall, holding her belly like it hurts from so much laughing.

“Anyway, you should go for it. We don’t have many happy things going for us.” His mind provides him with the smile she had yesterday when she discovered the paint canisters Magnus had left for them. He’d been so blind before, believing that there wasn’t anything else beyond fighting and taking care of his family. So wrong.

Clary cringes.

“You don’t know…” she falters, looking straight at him. “OH MY GOD DO YOU KNOW?”

“That you have a secret crush on me? Yup. Magnus said I’m very crushworthy last night and, let’s be honest, he’s always right.” He barely has the time to finish his sentence before Clary throws a pillow at his face. He punches it away easily. “Weak!” he comments, gleefully smiling down at her.

“You’re so impossible! I prefered you when you hated me!”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I really don’t.” A pause. “So I should…”

“Go talk to Izzy before Simon gets too sad about Raphael and gives in his total adoration for her? Yup.”

“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing!”

_ Consider it payback for that awkward “You’re in love with Jace” mess a few weeks ago _ . He doesn’t say that part out loud, ego still a bit sore at the way she had poked right where it hurt.

“What is going to be embarrassing is my mother’s face when she realizes that Max is her last chance at having a straight kid.”

Clary chokes on nothing, catching his meaning and blushing again.  _ Yes, Izzy is into you dumbass _ .

“How is he, by the way?” she asks, subtle as a shax demon in a nursery.

“Good. Most news I get from Lydia. She asked to tutor him on Clave law. I think she wants to make sure that the new generation of Shadowhunters aren’t as fucked as the previous ones. He’s harboring a pretty big crush on her, the last I heard. He actually told her that it was extremely lucky that I called off the wedding so she’s still single.”

“That’s… adorable? Bet he’s counting the days until he’s 18 so he can ask her out.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

 

*

When Magnus comes back from his run, he’s a mess of sweaty hotness. 

His boyfriend looks exhausted but he’s smiling widely at them, still humming some tune that Alec has no chance of recognizing. 

“Hey, darling,” he waves Alec, “and biscuit! No Izzy?” he asks, curling his headphones around his iPod and throwing them carelessly on the nearest couch.

Alec’s brain takes a moment to process the question, too busy staring at Magnus’ everything.

“Izzy was busy with head of the Institute business,” Clary explains for him, bless her. “Where did you go running, anyway? You were gone for so long.”

“Oh, I went all around Brooklyn. Needed to have a good sweat. Good for the mind to shut down and reboot once in awhile.”

Clary doesn’t look like she particularly understands him but she nods anyway. Alec, unfortunately, gets enthralled by the way the afternoon light plays on Magnus’ sweaty skin. 

“I’m gonna take a quick shower because I suspect that poor Alexander is having a brain freeze. Highly understandable,” he teases, winking at Alec. And again, he sashays out of the living room and into the bathroom, moving his hips in a way that Alec wants to outlaw. When the door clicks shut, Clary starts laughing again.

“Don’t,” he commands her. It sounds like a plea and a whimper at the same time. He’s that gone. 

Clary topples over her seat and falls down on the floor, cackling.

Magnus is out of his shower quickly, chest still covered with some droplets of water when he gets out of the room. Because Magnus might be dressed like his usual magnificent self, sans makeup, but he obviously  _ forgot  _ to close his shirt -at least the soft looking blue cargo pants are zipped up.  Alec is forced to notice the rolled up sleeved, though, perfectly even. He might just...

“Magnus!” he half screams.

Clary -who sat back up on the sofa once her fit of giggles stopped- is looking appraisingly at Magnus’ chest and after Alec’s conversation with Isabelle last night, he’s not letting the redhead think too much of Magnus’ chiseled abs. To protect Izzy’s interests of course.

“Magnus, that’s a shirt!” he remarks, gesturing towards his boyfriend’s chest.

“So?”

“It has  _ buttons _ , damn it!”

“Oh, sorry, I forget how hot I am sometimes. Biscuit, you should close that mouth, you’re going to swallow a fly.”

The smug fucking bastard.

Clary closes her mouth with an exaggerated sound and oh sweet baby Raziel, why are they making so much fun out of his suffering? 

Alec does something then that he knows he will regret, because it seems almost criminal to hide all of this glory. He rises to his feet, walks straight to Magnus and buttons his damn shirt up for him, button by button, restraining himself from copping a feel. At Magnus’ raised eyebrow -the sexy one- Alec’s breath catches in his throat. This is quickly getting out of hand.

“This is so unfair, I’m a nice boyfriend, I don’t deserve this kind of torture,” he murmurs, low enough to be sure that Magnus is the only one that can hear him. 

“Well, one might think that nice boyfriends get nice things… eventually,” Magnus promises in a suggestive tone and Alec can feel himself fattening up in his sweat pants.

Nope.

“Clary?” he asks, breathing like he ran a marathon. Magnus looks at him in confusion. 

“Already going!” she half-screams, half-laughs. Alec can hear her retreating to the front door. “Don’t forget to use those condoms we got for you! Have a nice evening!” she shouts, shutting the door closed after her.

A few seconds pass. Alec still has his hands on Magnus’ shirt, at the collar, thumbing at one of the glorious collarbones now half-covered by the fabric. Neither he nor Magnus seems to want to break the eye contact.

“I’m not sleeping wi-” Magnus begins with a strained voice, like he really, really wants to.

“I know. But I’m still going to kiss the hell out of you until I can’t and then we’ll stop,” Alec declares, mouth a breath away from Magnus’.

“Seems good to me,” Magnus approves, nodding enthusiastically at Alec before diving into the kiss passionately.

When Alec takes a suspiciously long shower after that, Magnus has the decency to appreciate his effect on Alec in the privacy of his own mind.

 

*

When Clary steps into her room at the Institute, she doesn’t expect to see her mother sitting on her bed, looking pissed.

“You missed training again,” she growls, standing up. In her anger, she seems less out of it that she is generally -which leaves a bittersweet taste in Clary’s mouth. Magnus might have predicted that all the magic in her system would take a toll on her but it’s still worrying to see her mom so diminished to the point that she rarely leaves her quarters. Of course being disappointed by her daughter would energize her.

“I had something to do,” she says, shrugging off her jacket and throwing it on the nearest chair.

That seems like the wrong thing to say, as Jocelyn’s expression turns stormy.

“Training is vital. Not just for your own safety but for all-”

“If you hadn’t lied to me all my life, we wouldn’t be having this conversation about ancestral duties!” Clary shouts at her. If only this was the first time they’ve had this conversation. They’re still incapable of finding common ground on this. 

“We did that to-”

“Protect me, heard that before. How did that turn out for us?” Clary holds up a hand, daring her mother to answer. “Training with that douche doesn’t help. The ones who help are Isabelle and Alec. And right now, they don’t need me to be objectified by a bleached creep or to disarm someone in under two seconds, they need me to be there for them.”

“And how do you figure on doing that when your father sends a death squad against you and your friends? I’m sure that a hug will do wonders for them when they're dead because you don’t know how to hold yourself in a fight.” Jocelyn snarks back, cold. 

“Wow… You sounds just like Maryse.” Clary never thought that she would make that comparison before… and yet.

“Oh, believe me, that pains me, but she’s right. We want our children to live.”

“At the cost of our mental health,” Clary adds, shaking her head in disbelief.

Sometimes her mother seems so different it makes Clary fear that a glamour rune is involved. But it’s just that Jocelyn spent so much time hiding this part of herself that Clary faces a stranger now that it’s revealed.

“Go back to your room, I have to study my runes,” Clary lies. At this point, she doesn’t care if her mother doesn’t believe her. She just wants her gone.

Jocelyn doesn’t answer, doesn’t even nod, just leaves her bedroom and closes the door softly behind her. 

The worst part is that she still needs to deal with Sebastian -fucking trainer won’t let it go this easily. At least, she can definitely punch him in the face.

There’s a knock on her door and she groans, exasperated. 

“What?” she roars opening the door, expecting her mother to have changed her mind.

She’s greeted by Isabelle in one of her usual skintight dress and Clary’s eyes are inevitably drawn to the magnificent curves of her body. She still has her hair up in the braid Clary made for her this morning, even if it’s a bit lopsided -far from the perfect way Izzy usually styles them.

“Must have been a good day,” Izzy muses as she enters the room without waiting, forcing Clary out of the way. She closes the door quickly and uses her  _ stele _ to lock it with a rune, adding a silencing rune as well. “Must have gone as great as mine.”

“What happened? Clary asks, worried.

“Imogen Herondale is coming back here. Three day tops, the Consul finally yielded and the interrogations of your mother and Hodge will happen here and not in Idris. Apparently, the Clave wanted to have them shipped to Alicante ASAP but Herondale thought it was too dangerous. I don’t think she believes that your mom isn’t working with Valentine.”

“But she hates us! She won’t listen to what we have to say,” Clary exclaims. This time around they won’t have Lydia around to support them.

“Mom is talking about removing Hodge from the City of Bones cell he’s been in since his arrest and bringing him back here again,” Isabelle continues, as if she hasn’t heard Clary.

The redhead reflects on how conflicted Isabelle seems to be at the thought of her former tutor under her roof again. His betrayal left a wound, one that is badly healing on the Lightwood children.

“Will this be like your trial?” she asks. 

“No. This will be full interrogation. Torture in Hodge’s case, I suppose.” 

A shiver runs down Clary’s back. Surely her mother won’t face that kind of treatment? And what about Luke? She will have to text him the news. She goes and sits on her desk chair, overwhelmed by fatigue. 

“What about you? I heard Verlac screaming that you skipped training again.” Izzy’s tone is accusing. 

_ Not again,  _ Clary thinks, rolling her eyes.

“As I told Alec and my mother, training comes after what happened yesterday with Alec.”

“If you don’t feel safe with that guy around, I can put in a request for a new tutor. Or I can take over hand-to-hand combat training with you. Hell, Raj is more than decent at it, he’ll probably jump at the chance to spar against you.” Isabelle sits, too, but on the bed, self-consciously fingering the hem of her dress.

“You have a busy sche-”

“I don’t want to hear it. If we come first for you, then  _ you come first for us _ .” Isabelle sounds dead serious and Clary can’t help but nod, feeling a bit stupid for arguing against Isabelle about this. 

“So… what are we gonna do? Let the racist adults make all the choices or...?” she demands, smiling ironically at her friend.

Izzy huffs and gives her a shit-eating grin.

“Three days is a short time but I think we can make it work. Your mom still doesn’t remember anything from her time with Valentine?” 

“If she does, she’s keeping quiet about it.” And it’s not like they talk about the more serious issues when she’s arguing with Clary.

“Then we’ll have to bring her to Magnus; he probably has something to jumpstart her memory.”

“Wouldn’t he have offered by now?” Clary frowns. Magnus, though he pretends to barely care, has always been more than helpful to them.

“That book we retrieved from Camille’s must have something in it, no way he’s had time to go through all of it already,” Isabelle points out. “I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“Okay. What about Hodge? We can’t overlook his importance in this.” The man had been dragged to the City of Bones in the middle of the night by Maryse and a group of Shadowhunters without Alec or Izzy being informed. No one has been authorized to see him since.

“Depends when he’s brought here.”

They’re both silent for a moment, lost in thoughts.

“This never stop, does it? The constant bad news?” Clary isn’t sure she can deal with this and remain whole. Jace gone, her mom’s health fragile, Alec exiling himself to Magnus’ loft and now this...

“I have to believe it’s worth it,” Isabelle answers as she rises from the bed. “Or I would just crumble. I need to go, though, I promised Magnus that I would check on Simon and take fake couple pictures with him.”

Wait, what?

Clary quickly stands up, a wave of panic crashing inside of her.

“Doyouwanttogohavedinnerwithme?” she mumbles, half-aware that it’s the worst timing ever but not giving a damn. Alec was right, she can’t let Isabelle get away from her like that.

The brunette cocks her head to the side, frowning. 

“You don’t mean that as a friend, do you?” And shit, Isabelle almost sounds hopeful.

Clary shakes her head, scared to talk.

Izzy nods enthusiastically before saying, “I would love that.”

Relief floods Clary’ entire being and she smiles at Izzy -so much it hurts her cheeks.

“Okay, so… I’ll see you after that thing with Simon and -” she stops herself, enthralled by Isabelle’s grace as she walks straight towards her and kisses her on the cheek. 

It should be innocent but… it just robs Clary’s breath from her lungs and kindles a fire in her belly, something awful and all-consuming. She doesn’t think twice before standing from her chair so she can kiss Isabelle right on the mouth, dragging her down a little to compensate for the heels that Izzy’s wearing.

It’s different than kissing a boy -not better, just different-  since her smooth skin doesn’t itch and her lipstick has a fruity taste and, well. It’s Izzy. Who bites her bottom lips, lightly, as if to beg entrance and Clary can’t refuse her. Their tongues meets in a slow open-mouthed kiss and Isabelle’s hands are on her hips, swaying them a little. Her own hands are clutching the soft fabric on Izzy’s back, trying to keep her close.

Fortunately, Isabelle doesn’t seem like she wants to be anywhere else.

“Damn,” Clary says when they part, breathing heavily. She blushes at the way her voice cracks on the simple word. A kiss, it took her a single kiss to lose her ability to kept it together.

“Damn, indeed,” Isabelle chuckles into her neck. 

 

*

Jace wakes up in increments, slowly lulled from sleep by a slow humming. Immediately, he knows something wrong: he’s burning up, sweating and shivering at the same time. 

Slowly opening his feverish eyes, he can see the rusty ceiling of his cabin above him before that simple action proves to be too much in his condition and they close by themselves. So he made it.  _ Good job, Jace _ , he thinks. He’s annoyed at feeling any kind of relief at being alive -surviving just means it all start again tomorrow. 

And last night wasn’t a stroll on the beach. Jace shudders at the idea of what Valentine will have them do next. What kind of insane and cruel trial he will put them through.

Pain flares when he tries to swallow and he coughs, throat burning like hell and swollen, a foul taste in his mouth. His back aches at the violent stretch and he can’t stop a low whimper of anguish. Eyes shut, heart pounding, he focuses on Alec - _ he’s safe, they’re all safe, it’s worth it _ , part of him reassures, intent on keeping afloat when he feels like drowning in despair. The other part just wants to know why they’re not looking for him, why  _ he _ hasn’t been saved yet. If he’s even worth saving. Was he ever a true Lightwood anyway, or just a little pet for them?

His father’s voice smugly tells him that this is his place. This is what he was made for.

He forces his tired eyes open, even in the blinding light, to chase that thought away. Alec and Izzy and the others love him. He needs to remember that. The appeasing wave that Alec sends him, the increasing strength of their bond show him he is loved. No matter what Valentine says, he is loved.

“Back in the land of the living! Congrats, Duckie, wasn’t sure you would make it,” Ezra says on his left.

Jace startles and cringes in pain at the sudden movement. He hadn’t realized someone else -especially not that Merryweather bitch from hell- was there with him. He tries to sit up but another feat of coughing overtakes him, leaving him exhausted. After getting his breathing under control, he gives up on sitting up and just turns his head to the side. 

There she is in all her fucking glory, seated in the only chair in the small cabin, feet on the folding table. For once, she’s not playing with her knife (though Jace can see the glint of it on the table beside her boots) but filling her nails with a bored expression.

“Yeah, you still must have some water in you lungs after the bath you took last night…” she comments without looking away from her nails. “You feeling hot and bothered in the wrong way?” 

He stubbornly refuses to answer. It’s not like her concern is genuine. 

At his lack of answer, she rolls her eyes and sets the neon colored file on the table, puts her feet on the metallic floor with a big thud and rises from her seat. Her long auburn hair is damp and all tangled up by sea water, he can’t help to notice. Last he saw her, she was fighting well on the beach, against group of sirens in their human forms, away from the swimming, vermin-infested water.

“You pulled me out?” he croaks, each words laced with pain and begrudging gratitude.

“That fish-tailed bitch wasn’t so keen on you breathing…” she begins and Jace, foolish as he is, almost smiles at her. “I mean, I’m not either but Boss Man might have objected on me letting you drown and stuff.”

Now that’s the Ezra he knows and loathes. 

He’s not sure how old she is. A year or two older than Lydia, perhaps. It’s probably why her calling Valentine, his father, ‘Boss Man’ and shamelessly batting her eyelashes at him makes Jace queasy. But speaking of his father, where the hell is he? He doesn’t bother asking, scared that Ezra would make fun of him. She takes immense joy in treating him like a snotty kid.

She puts a hand on his forehead, frowning. Quickly she takes it back and wipes it on the filmy blanket. Surely he’s not  _ that _ clammy.

“Time for another  _ iratze,”  _ she declares, producing Jace’s stele from her pocket. She pushes his blanket a bit and puts the stele in his hand, expectantly looking at him. He looks at her in shock. Does she expects him to apply it? He can hardly  _ talk,  _ let alone move his hand precisely enough to burn the healing rune onto his skin. “Come on, Duckie,” she urges, “lung infection is a breath away for you. And those claw marks on your back could reopen and fester.” 

To his surprise, she gently helps him sit up -still fucking painful, though- and puts the pillow behind his back. The position hurts. He manages to grip the stele in his hand. Looking down at himself, he’s disgusted by the number of marks on his body, of the crisscrossing bandages, bloody and oozing some yellow liquid through. Jace feels nauseous thinking about the cuts underneath.. 

“You’re telling me that you already put one on me?” he hysterically laughs. Must be the poison in the sirens claws still acting up. 

“Romy did, I was busy killing the bitch that was still clawing at your ankle once I pulled you out.”

Damn.

Jace concentrates on his hand and slowly burns the rune upside down on his abdomen, arm straining from the effort. 

Relief floods his body in a cool calming shiver, muscles relaxing, cuts closing and breathing evening. His eyes clear and so does his mind, fever slowly, slowly decreasing.

“Wasn’t that hard, now was it?” she says. Jace must be hallucinating because he hears the edge of relief in her voice. 

“Or you,” he coughs, “could have done it yourself,” he accuses. 

“No can do, Duckie,” she singsongs with evil glee. Damn, he hates her guts.

They’re silent for a moment, lulled by the slight swaying of the boat.

“Where is Valentine?” he brings himself to ask out loud after some effort.

She doesn’t answer at first, taking the time to sit back on the chair, dramatically sighing as she puts her boots back on the table.

“Boss Man took a portal shortly after we came back to the boat. Some business in Paris, I think.”

_ At least he waited to know I was alive before leaving _ , Jace thinks to himself. 

“Could you please stop calling him  _ Boss Man _ ?” he begs, once again grossed out by the pet name.

“He likes it,” she smirks, resuming her impromptu manicure. 

Jace is certain that he could gut her with the damn file. If he could move, that is. He groans again, lightly banging his head against the wall. Oh shit, that hurts… Damn idiot, he forgot that he is still recovering. 

“What happened with the sirens and the other recruits?” he morbidly asks.

Ezra’s face pales.

Last night was a butchery he has rarely witnessed. The cove was a bad idea to begin with. Fighting sirens in water was probably the stupidest thing one could consider. Yet Valentine had given two squads of newly turned Shadowhunters -20 each- to Ezra and Jace to go and kill the sirens that had been terrorizing the coast; shark attacks, the mundanes thought, coupled with a terrible series of boating accidents that were too suspicious to be unrelated.

When Jace had questioned the order, Valentine had looked at him with his hard eyes (same as always, even if the color was different now) and gripped the back of his head, pulling him closer.  _ I give the orders _ , he had said,  _ I know how to train Shadowhunters to face the worst, to survive the odds _ . 

Jace’s body reacted the only way it knew how when confronted with the disappointment of his father. He went limp, eyes cast downward like a supplicating dog ready for a kick. Valentine knew better. He always knew better, when was that going to stick in Jace’s head?

“Most of my squad didn’t make it,” Ezra informed him, a ghost of emotion he quite can’t place on her face. “Yours are all dead except for that creepy guy with the My Little Pony tattoo. Really, it had to be  _ that _ one.”

Urgh. Trevor. Travis something. 

“How did Valentine take that?”

“What do you think? Boss Man is  _ cold.  _ 35 deads and he fucking shrugged. Savage,” she gushes, full of admiration and dropping the act of compassion she put on while telling Jace about the body count. Valentine has her under his thumb. “He took the Cup with him when he left, so we can make an educated guess as to what he’s doing in France.”

More cannon fodder for his war. Ezra seems okay with that. Perhaps she doesn’t realize that even her pure Shadowhunter blood (and the feeling of superiority that comes with being born a Shadowhunter and not  _ made _ like the idiots that filled this boat) doesn’t make her special in Valentine’s eyes.

Neither is Jace. And that realisation hurts more than being dragged underwater by 250 pounds of snarling siren.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, you're all lovely!  
> BETA'D BY THE FANTASTIC [LIGHTWOODSBAE](http://lightwoodsbae.tumblr.com/) (seriously she must have suffered)  
> You can come say hi on my [tumblr](http://theleftboobgrabber.tumblr.com/) or on [coffee](http://ko-fi.com/theleftboobgrabber/)!
> 
> Feedback is love ❤


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